


In Between You And Me, There's An Ocean

by cheeriosandgalaxybars



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: (Are We Surprised Though), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And Then Gets Worse Anyway, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Era, David Jacobs Needs A Hug, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, IDK if it counts but i'm being careful, Insecurity, Internalized Homophobia, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Jacobs Family Fun, M/M, Modern Era, Outlander AU, Outlander is weird guys, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Race Is An Actual Mess, Time Travel, dream meeting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:47:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26515420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheeriosandgalaxybars/pseuds/cheeriosandgalaxybars
Summary: David thought the most that could happen on his visit to New York would be confessing his feelings to his best friend. Maybe a trip to Broadway, if he was lucky (and he generally was, anyone would vouch for him).He didn't expect to hear the buzzing, he didn't expect to touch the bricks and wake up in a whole new time. He didn't expect a lot but he learnt to, so maybe he shouldn't have been surprised when he accidentally started (or, well, joined) a strike.Outlander AU.
Relationships: Crutchie & Jack Kelly, David Jacobs & Katherine Plumber Pulitzer, David Jacobs & Les Jacobs, David Jacobs & Sarah Jacobs, David Jacobs/Jack Kelly, Jack Kelly & Medda Larkin, Jack Kelly/Katherine Plumber, Racetrack Higgins & David Jacobs, Racetrack Higgins & Jack Kelly, Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Comments: 40
Kudos: 45





	1. The Trip

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I re-watched Outlander and welcome inspiration. Title from Cold by James Blunt.
> 
> Big ups to my beta reader, Liz. I really do appreciate you man. Thank you!

Kathy was ecstatic to be in New York. David had heard all about it on the drive up. About her family, her heritage.

_"So you see, my... great-great-great grandfather_ _moved_ _to Santa Fe and--"_

David would be lying if he said he paid attention past that point. It was very in one ear and out the other. Not that he tried to do that.

It was just that he had his fast approaching junior year to worry about and he really didn't want to go on a road trip with his best friend. But, if he didn't, he'd be an awful person because she was so excited about it. He cared but the anxiety was an all consuming thing that went round and round in his head like a carousel.

So now, he was in an unfamiliar hotel room with a mountain of work that he had to do whilst juggling sight seeing.

"Okay, so, I've been thinking--"

"That's never a good sign," he replied, looking up from his book. Kathy had a bright smile on her face and it made the whole trip seem worth it in just a second.

The fact that she could do that really amazed him. And then the thought of the work he had to do had him turning his gaze back to his book.

"As I was _saying,_ I have a plan. And it involves a lot of food."

That caught his attention and he reluctantly closed his book. He almost sighed mournfully as he placed it on the table. It felt like he was saying goodbye to his good grades.

"I'm listening."

"Broadway then pizza?" Kathy asked and David thought it sounded wonderful. The pizza part mainly.

Kathy beamed and David become acutely aware that he _really_ liked his friend. Not that he didn't know that already, but seriously. How was he going to survive a whole trip with her when she looked so happy?

Damn it. Damn it all.

And David followed Kathy all day. When she wanted to pose for a picture, he obediently took her phone and took several. When she stopped excitedly to point out places she wanted to take him, he nodded along. He didn't mind, it was more for her than him.

In the back of his head, though, he felt something uneasy. He looked at Kathy, with her bronze hair and bright, mocha eyes and felt as if he wouldn't see her for a long time.

~~~

It was growing dark by the time they returned to the hotel, laughing and giggling. Kathy had latched onto his arm and was leaning her head on his shoulder. He felt as if he were soaring.

David turned his head just a bit and he saw someone staring at him, eyes wide with wonder. The boy was dressed like he'd been to a fancy party, but his clothes seemed worn like he barely took them off. Curiously, he had a cap on his head too, a sight David never thought he'd see in Manhattan.

Davis opened his mouth, an 'are you okay?' just on the tip of his tongue when the boy turned away and disappeared.

Stopping, dumbfounded, he was vaguely aware of Kathy's laughter dying out.

"David, are you okay?"

Had he seen a ghost? Was that what it was?

"David?"

No, it couldn't be. Ghosts didn't exist, they didn't, he knew this.

"David, please."

He turned to her. Her eyebrows were turned down in concern. "I'm fine. Just thought I saw someone from back home."

Kathy lightened in an instant. "Oh, David. You'll see them soon enough, now c'mon! Early night and we'll get up and do some more."

David allowed himself to be lead by her, hearing but not listening to her chatter of the days to come, all the while the boy's face was in his mind. The look of absolute love he wore, the way he had lit up when he saw David.

He had to find him. Or, at least, see him again.

So, he waited. Kathy fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit her pillow; he supposed that was to be expected with all the walking she had done.

The moment she started softly snoring was when he grabbed his shoes and made for the door.

David felt bad about leaving Kathy, especially in a place as unfamiliar and big as New York City, but then he realized he would only be gone a couple of hours.

He'd be back before she woke up.

When he got out onto the street, he observed that it was much quieter than it had been. It was still busy, people walked briskly past him in bunches like he was invisible. This was going to be all so much easier.

He saw the spot the boy had been stood at and made his way towards it. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. From the corner of his eye, he noticed an alleyway. That must've been where he'd disappeared to. It had to be.

David approached and looked out from the side. It looked like an alleyway. Boring, sort of dirty and dingy. Nothing outrageous, nothing that screamed ghost.

Was he seriously still debating that as an option? One look at a pretty boy and suddenly all his logic and reason had disappeared.

David stepped out into it. He wasn't expecting for his head to fill with a strange buzzing sound that mixed with what sounded like a rush of wind.

That really wasn't normal.

Christ, this was weird. So weird. Weirder than weird.

The noise was coming from the wall but only a certain part. The bricks looked more weathered than the others and some of the cement looked crumbled away. It didn't look particularly sturdy.

David wondered what would happen if he touched it. Nothing, probably. But then again, you didn't usually hear buzzing when you walk into an alleyway.

He decided that nothing would happen, but even so, it wouldn't hurt to try. Approaching cautiously, he realized how silly he must've looked.

It was a wall. Nothing to be scared of, just an old, aging pile of bricks stacked on top of one another.

Step by step, he got closer and the buzzing got louder and louder until David was certain it was ringing in his ears. His hand stretched out, inching torturously towards the wall.

He briefly felt the roughness of the brick under his fingertips, barely having time to register the dust that fell into his palm before there was a flash and it was pitch black.

It was silent.

The buzzing was gone and it was dark. So terribly dark. Was he--

Was he dead? Like, dead dead. Dead as in not living, not breathing, completely and utterly stone dead.

He hadn't even bought a car yet. He couldn't be. He wasn't. There was no way. He hadn't told Kathy that--

"Mama, look!"

David awoke to a boy, no older than eight, staring down at him. The boy had wide eyes and a frown, as if he were trying to work something out.

David looked passed the boy's shoulder and saw a much older woman, one with a kind face and a soft glow to it. She might've even been called youthful if it weren't for the lines that marked her.

"Les, let the poor thing wake up," the woman chided. She coaxed the boy -- Les -- away from him and then held a hand out.

David stared at it dis-trustingly. She picked up on this. "It's alright, dear. Here, sit up. There we go."

The woman helped David lean against the wall and he felt his world tip sideways as if he were on a seesaw. It carried on and he felt sick.

"Wh--" He knew where he was, he looked out at the alleyway he had wondered into. A different question, then. "Where's Kathy?"

"Kathy? Who's Kathy? Is she your sister?"

David shook his head but regretted it and shot his hand out to grab at his temple. Why did he think that would be a good idea?

"She's a... a friend," David explained, his voice unsteady and unsure. "She-- It's day, she must be worried."

"Well you sit there for a bit, dear, and we'll see if we can find this Kathy," the woman said. "What does she look like."

 _Beautiful._ "Uh, red hair, brown eyes, she's quite tall but she wears these boots all the time so she's really tall. And she, uh, really likes dresses. She wears them all the time, y'know, the, uh, longer ones. I think."

The fact that David could recite that from memory alone made him deserve an award. At least, that was his opinion because he really knew nothing about fashion.

The woman had gotten increasingly more befuddled although she smiled indulgently at him. David knew he was wasting his time.

"Look, I can go find he--"

"No, stay there. I think... yes. Les, would you mind sharing a room for a night or two?" she asked, turning to face Les.

He jumped up in excitement. "Oh, yes. Yes! We can stay up all night and--"

"Les, you have school and I'm sure..."

She fell silent and David realized, with a jolt, that she was waiting on his name. "David."

"I'm sure David is tired. Now, let's get you up and we'll take you home." She took him by the arm and gently eased him up onto his feet.

David was waving his free hand, like he was trying to wave away the offer. "No, no, I'll be fine. You really don't have to," he protested.

The woman shot him a look and he fell silent in an instant. It felt like a death glare and it probably was. There was no way he would argue with that.

Besides, one night wouldn't hurt. Kathy would understand what had happened just fine, she'd laugh at it after she lectured him about running off in the middle of the night.

Longing for Kathy was a familiar feeling, but this was totally. It hadn't been long, in fact, it felt like only ten minutes before he had just left her, but his heart ached. He would give anything to hear her ramble again. The fear that they'd been seperated unwillingly was a bit too strong.

The woman and Les lead him out the alleyway and David glanced back at the hotel only it looked so much different than it had. It no longer looked fancy or done up. The spotlighting outside was missing along with the sign and glass doors. Now it was a... was that an apartment building?

He didn't have time to get a better look of it past that. They had begun walking away. David faced forward again and observed that there were no cars. There was no one on their phones either. In fact, every single person he walked past seemed to have walked out of the past.

Women wore long dresses and elegant hats, although some walked barefoot and with ripped rags for clothing. Men wore waste coats and shirts.

It wasn't that David had never seen these things. He had but it was a rare sight to see it every day and on so many people. Then he saw a a carriage go past and he felt his stomach drop as a sickening thought popped into his head.

"What's the date?"

The panic rose up, clawing at his throat and sending his head in spinning circles.

The woman laughed. "I'm sorry?"

"The date, what's the date?" he asked again, his voice cracking at the end. His own heartbeat was in his ear, fast and loud.

"Well, it's the second of June, I believe," she said. She no longer tried to mask her concern with a smile. Her eyes examined him, up and down. Until, it seemed, she realized something and her eyes softened with sympathy.

"The year. The year?"

"The year of our lord one thousand, eighteen hundred and ninety eight."

No. No. No, no, no. _No._ Time travel didn't exist and it certainly didn't happen to him. He was little, old ordinary David who sat at the back of class and never spoke out once. He was David, the captain of his school's chess club. Nothing happened to him. No, he was normal.

Time travel was a fantasy.

Spying someone waving around a newspaper, he managed to get a glimpse of the date.

_2nd June 1898._

The newsboy caught his gaze and eyed him up and down. There was a faint recognition. But David didn't have time to think about that because...

Because...

He-- He--

It hit him all too fast. One minute he was grappling with the idea, the next it was like a freight train had slammed into him.

Kathy. Kathy hadn't been born. Kathy was a hundred years away.

He would never see her again. No. No, no, no.

He looked at the woman and promptly collapsed into her arms, sobbing into her shoulder as she soothed him and rubbed a comforting hand over his back. "Oh, you poor, poor thing. Shush, it's okay. It's okay, We'll get you home."

David had travelled to the past and he didn't know how to get back.


	2. The Jacobs

The woman, she told him her name was Esther, allowed David into her home. Graciously, he might add. It was nice, cozy. Les had lead him into a side room and announced, rather excitedly, that David could take his bed. So, he sat down on the small single bed in the corner and gazed longingly at the double bed that looked a far bit more comfortable than the one he was sat in. At least, that was until he realized what he was thinking and shook himself out of it.

Grateful, he should be grateful and yet he was being so stupidly selfish. He couldn’t guarantee how long he could stay so he shouldn’t have been complaining, albeit silently.

A sinking feeling settled in his chest as he thought about what would happen after her hospitality ran out.

It would eventually, he knew it. He just hoped it lasted long enough to give him time to work out what he needed to do. But so far, he really had no bright ideas on what to do. Where would he go? How was he going to get home? _Could_ he get home?

The thought of the unknown sent another bout of anxiety racing through him and he felt his head spin. Again.

Esther opened the door with a set of blankets. “David, lie down.”

Once he did as he brushed his hair from his forehead. His mother used to do the same thing and a strange sense of familiarity washed over him. Was that normal? “Did you come from the bricks?”

“The, uh, bricks?”

“The bricks with the buzzing?”

How did she know about the buzzing? His mouth fell open and he felt like a fish out of water. Esther laughed. “My children fell through. My husband too.”

David remembered what she had told him when he was sobbing into her arms. “Can you get me home? You said you would.”

Her face fell and the sympathy smile was back. “No, dear. I was talking about getting you home here. We… We do not know if you can go back.”

Grief. That was what he felt. Overwhelming, sharp, raw grief. His throat closed up and everything else died on his tongue. He would never see Kathy again. Or his parents. Or even his friends.

“You are welcome to stay here, with us.” David looked up and into her eyes. She was so sincere, so genuine and so kind. He couldn’t answer, not now. He could hardly wrap his head around the fact that he would never go home again, but to immediately take an offer to start a new life? That was damn near impossible to think about.

“Thank you,” he replied. He hoped it sounded non-committal. Or, at least, Esther understood that he couldn’t answer that for the moment.

She seemed to. “You come give me your answer when you are ready, dear.”

The blankets were placed down beside him and she gestured to them. “If you need extra, I will put them there. Tea will be ready when my husband gets home.”

David nodded his head. He didn’t know what else to do. Sitting back, his mind wandered. Unable to get home, his options were limited. Have a life here or don’t have one at all. Or, live the rest of his days obsessed with trying to get back and be heartbroken over the fact that he isn’t seeing everyone he cares and might never again.

His thoughts were interrupted again by the opening door. In walked a different woman. Esther mentioned having children plural, right? This must’ve been one of the others. Maybe she just had two.

She looked about his age with lighter, fawn colored hair and dark, almost black eyes. They held a sort of fiery determination that David was scared would burn him if she stared at him any longer.

“Mama said I could find you in here,” she said, sitting down where Esther had sat not moments before. “Sarah.” A hand was shoved into his face and he tentatively took it. “Welcome to the team.”

_Welcome to the… what?_

“I—I—I’m sorry?”

Sarah raised an eyebrow. “You’re from the bricks right? You are the boy Mama was talking about, right?”

Well, he supposed he was, but he wasn’t exactly _in_ the ‘team’ yet. “You are. Look, welcome to 1898. The world sucks, what else is new? But here, we at least understand it, so… hi, hello, welcome.”

Logically, she was right. They had gone through, they understood it and he was certain they could help him blend in. But his heart throbbed; he felt like he was betraying his family. The family that raised him and had supported him through all the hardships that life had thrown at him so far.

“I know that,” he said. He sighed. “I just…”

A hand was placed on his shoulder. “I get it, David. Honestly, take your time. But I just have a feeling, you know.”

There was an awkward silence that followed. What was there to say? Then Sarah spoke up. “Hey, what year did you come from?”

“Uh, 2014.”

“Hey! I’m from 2010!” She shot him a smile, one that reminded him so much of Kathy. “Les’s from 2007. It’s all so strange, I mean, Dad is from 1946 and yet we all sort of congregate around this time.”

“You’ve had a lot of time to think about this,” David noted.

“Yeah, there’s not as much to do here, like, I used to be able to just watch TV when I got bored, now I have to sew or read something. Crazy, huh?”

Honestly, David didn’t think so. At home, he never really liked technology, he felt like his grandpa whenever he used his computer because he didn’t understand it. Still, he kept his mouth shut.

Sarah still continued even when he didn’t answer. “I mean, have you ever actually read _Moby-Dick?_ Or _The Iliad?”_

Yes, he had. To both of those. “What do you do for fun?”

“Not much.” That was true, he studied too much. Most of his time not spent with Kathy was spent buried in a textbook. “I suppose I like writing.”

“Right, yeah. What did you write about?”

He felt like he didn’t know Sarah enough to pour his heart and soul out to her. She caught on and shook her head, “Sorry, sorry. You don’t have to answer.”

Realistically, he knew she meant well but he felt like he _had_ to now. “Children’s books mainly. Fantasy too.”

Another silence befell them. Eventually, Sarah stood up. “I’ll leave you to, like, mull this over. You and Les are going to share my bed tonight so, fair warning, he kicks in his sleep.” She waved and marched out of the room. Somehow, Sarah left with all the fierce determination she entered with despite the complete disaster of a ‘conversation’ they had.

He was alone again, he almost wished it would stay that way. He drifted away.

~~~

Life was… well, David wouldn’t say good but it was something. It was much better than it had been, and the Jacobs really had no problem allowing him into their small family. Mayer had even discussed paying for him to go to school when it started again.

What he had was unconventional (what was to be expected when he travelled through time?) but it worked for him, worked for them. His small, somewhat family was…

“David, you coming?” Les called, poking his head into their bedroom.

He looked up from his book (Sarah was right, there wasn’t much to do). “Where are we going?”

Les shrugged. “Wherever we want, Mama said we didn’t have to be home until _six!”_

Closing his book, David followed Les into the main room where Esther tossed a look over her shoulder. “Make sure he doesn’t get hurt, David.”

He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Will do, Esther.”

A tug at his cuff and David was being pulled into the apartment hallway; he just about got a wave through the door before it was closed by Les. He would’ve chided Les if it wasn’t for the fact that he was laughing from his antics. It was crazy that this felt like normal. Or, well, the _new_ normal as Esther always said.

“I was thinking, Papa gave me a whole dime because of how good I was helping Mama with the laundry.”

David had completely forgotten that Les was helping Esther with her laundry business. “So, can we go to the candy store?”

“S—Yes.” Mentally, he groaned. It seemed every day he was reminding himself what was correct to say. “But don’t spend it a— Hey!”

He looked up at the person who had just bumped into him. He positively _beamed_ at him. “Sorry, I wasn’t lookin’ where I was goin’.”

David spotted the crutch the boy was using and felt his heart plummet. He had just shouted at someone with a disability because they bumped into each other. Great going, real smart.

“No, it was my fault.” The boy was holding a whole bunch of newspapers and a bright idea popped into his head. “Hey, do you need help with that?”

“Oh!” the boy exclaimed before shaking his head. “It’s fine. Ain’t fallin’ for that one again.” He laughed but stopped when he noticed how confused David looked.

“David” Les said, tugging again on his jacket. “David, he’s a newsboy. That’s his job.”

It clicked in his mind. The kid probably thought David was going to steal his newspapers. Nothing was going right with this conversation, it seemed. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I—I didn’t’ realize.”

With a wave of his hand, the boy dismissed it. He was still smiling, it hadn’t left his face even though he had just insinuated he wanted to steal his papers.

“Ain’t no harm. I gotta go. Papes ain’t gonna sell themselves.”

And the boy hobbled along, calling out the headline. David watched until he turned a corner and then almost hid behind Les. Luckily, he didn’t. He was tall, for most, and if he were to hide behind an eight-year-old and he would have looked stupid.

Les laughed. “Oh. My—ˮ

“Les!”

“You’re clueless, oh, my God,” Les cackled. He had was bent over and David rolled his eyes exasperatedly. Right now, he felt like going home. Wait—

Since when was the Jacobs home?

“Les, I swear if you don’t stop then I’ll leave you.”

He continued and he wasn’t one to lie.

“Where are you going? No, David! Don’t leave me! David, _David!”_

~~~

“Bye Mama!”

It had slipped out, he didn’t mean for it to come out. Heat crawled up his neck and he turned back to Esther, who was tearing up and she pulled David into a bone-crushing hug. She kissed the top of his head and then pulled away.

“I’ll see you after school,” she said, “son.”

Les was waiting just outside and David ruffled his hair as they set of for school. “So, Mama?”

A punch to the arm shut him up real quick and soon the both of them were just bumping shoulders as they walked along. He was so incredibly glad that he had found his home.

But he was more grateful for his unconventional family. Sarah in all her feminine glory (seriously, she was the greatest and he would have been dressed like he’d walked out of the 2010s if it wasn’t for her) and Esther and her calming aura that she always had about her. He also couldn’t forget Mayer, who had plenty of tips to help him get used to living in 1898. Mayer was responsible for all the new things David had found himself doing to fill the time. He was becoming quite the poker player because of him.

And then there was Les. Les was the little brother who annoyed you to no end but you couldn’t help loving and who you’d entertain just because you couldn’t say no.

So when his teacher called out, “David Jacobs,” during rollcall, David sat straighter and held his chin up in pride.

“Here, sir.”

If he was being honest, David Jacobs did have a ring to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm feeling so inspired to write this, so I'm going to get as much writing of this done while I can. Also, I'm finally writing on a laptop! So, hopefully the formatting will be fixed this time.
> 
> I also wanted to address the fact that Sarah and Les all speak in more slang? I don't know what to call it, but less Victorian. Basically, they grew up in around the 2000s whilst Mayer grew up in the 1930s, which is why he speaks more like Esther. Also, the small piece of history in this chapter is that many women, particularly working-class women, who couldn't find work would often do the laundry for their community. It was a way of making money and was quite profitable at the time.


	3. The Dream Kid

The first time Jack saw the ‘Dream Kid’, he was crying. Or, he had fallen in on himself and had a death-like grip on something in his hand. Getting a glimpse as he pulled it away from himself, Jack realized it was paper.

He spoke, his voice echoed in Jack’s mind for days afterwards. It sounded like a promise and Jack swore it made his heart constricted painfully.

_“I’ll find you, Jack, I’ll find you.”_

For some reason, Jack had really hoped he didn’t. He didn’t know why.

Since that night, Jack had seen the kid a lot. His favorite instance seemed so inane, but it changed something in him.

They were in his penthouse. The sun was setting in the distance and the sky was a perfect blend of orange and pink, the clouds were a more saturated color but looked just as fluffy as always. They moved at a snail pace across the few stars that painted the sky and there was a cool breeze on his face.

It felt too real to be just a dream. Something—or rather, someone—caught his attention. Dream Kid, again; he wasn’t all that surprised.

_“What is it?”_

The book in his hand snapped shut. Jack watched as his brown eyes gazed at him and he felt himself laughing. It was an odd feeling, like he was in his body but like someone else was pulling the strings for him.

_“Nothin’, you just look pretty.”_

Dream Kid moved closer. _“That’s some high praise there.”_

High praise? Jack almost laughed. Anything he said certainly wasn’t high and it certainly wasn’t flattering. At least, that’s what a couple of ladies had told him when he last attempted to flirt.

_“Nah, it’s the truth ‘cause you’re the prettiest person in New York.”_

Dream Kid didn’t argue and he looked out onto the skyline. It was peaceful and for the first time in a while, Jack felt completely relaxed. There was nothing else but him, New York and—

_“Davey?”_

He hummed and played with his hands. His skin was peeling away at his fingernail and he picked at it. Jack had to stop him and it seemed his… puppeteer agreed. Davey barely noticed, but Jack was taking his sweet time trying to memorize all the dips and creases on his hand. Surprisingly, his hands were so soft, as if he’d never worked a day in his life.

_“Would you believe me if I told you I don’t come from here?”_

What? _“Sure, Dave. Where’d’ ya come from?”_

If Jack was being honest, he could tell Davey didn’t come from New York. He’d never heard the accent Davey had; it was intriguing and Jack made a mental note to add that to the list of things he found strangely captivating about him.

 _“Santa Fe, I grew up there,”_ Davey explained.

Jack laughed. Threw back his head and _cackled. “So how much did I get right?”_

Davey wasn’t playing along. He bowed his head. _“I came from Santa Fe, 2014.”_

Wait, what? _“Come off, you’re pullin’ my leg.”_

There was no answer. Nothing. Complete silence. Jack was at a loss, he didn’t know.

 _“I’m not lying, Jackie,”_ Davey finally said, _“I was born on 7 th November, 1998. I haven’t been born yet, I’m not going to born for another ninety-eight years.”_

What could Jack say to that? But that wasn’t what he ended up saying, in fact, that was the complete opposite of what he said. _“Okay. Yeah, okay.”_

That caught Davey’s attention and he turned to face him. His eyes were impossibly wide and Jack saw the immense amount of trust and hope in them.

Maybe that was what changed in that dream. Looking at him, a boy who had been with him for years but never actually _there_ and here he was, staring at Jack like he’d hung the moon and the stars.

_“You believe me?”_

Pressing a kiss to Davey’s knuckles, Jack grinned. _“I’m tryna work it out. So, how’s ‘bout you tell me about that Santa Fe?”_

His prize was Davey, holding his stomach as he burst out laughing. And, for the first time, Jack felt his heart beat just that little bit quicker.

Someone bumped into him and snapped him out of his daze. Right, papes… he had newspapers to sell. Last thing he needed was to not sell at least half of them, he wasn’t sure if he could afford them tomorrow.

So, he hawked a little louder and managed to sell another ten before he felt exhausted. It crept into his bones until he felt like he couldn’t stand up anymore. But he couldn’t let up yet. There was still money to be made.

He looked over the street and he saw Davey.

Wait, he saw Davey? Davey as in Dream Kid?

Davey was there, staring at the pape he had held in his hand, looking as if he’d seen a ghost. Then, his face crumpled with grief and he turned to a woman—his mom?—and collapsed into her arms. She rubbed his back soothingly.

No. He wasn’t real. He just looked like him; that was it.

That had to be the truth.

Davey was just Dream Kid. That was all.

~~~

Crutchie had a particularly heavy step, especially when climbing up the ladder. His limp leg made movement hard, Jack knew this, but it also made telling when Crutchie was going to grace him with his presence very easy. Not that Crutchie’s voice alone wasn’t a dead giveaway. He was a loud kid both literally and figuratively, so Jack usually got his first hint when he heard the familiar, “Night boys!”

That night, Crutchie was followed by Race. Surprising, yes, but Jack had learnt never to be too unprepared, so he had a spare blanket ready by the time the two arrived.

“You alright, Racer?” he asked as Race took a seat and Crutchie began easing himself down into his own bed.

Race grinned, a spark of mischief gleaming in his eyes. “You won’t believe the day Crutch’s had.”

Even though he had just set it down, Crutchie smacked Race with his crutch. “That’s my news!”

Jack was thoroughly confused, which didn’t happen a lot, but he couldn’t read the situation at all. Race squawked and tried to scramble away from Crutchie’s continued onslaught of ‘attacks’.

“Calm down! Crutch, what’s ya news?”

He stopped and turned to Jack. “You ain’t gonna guess who I saw today!”

No, he probably wouldn’t. Everyone and their ma seemed to know who Crutchie was, probably because had a smile like sunshine, it honestly could part clouds on a rainy day. So, he was almost certain he wouldn’t know who he’s seen.

“Nah, you’se gonna tell me?” He looked from Race to Crutchie, waiting for either of them. Race was bouncing, his knee was flying up and down and he looked just about ready to blurt out whatever had happened. Crutchie, on the other hand, was calm although that famous grin was plastered on his face.

“I saw—“

“He saw Davey!”

That was twice in a month that Davey had been supposedly spotted. Some part of Jack just screamed coincidence, the other part, the part run completely by his heart, perked up and _fluttered._ Since when did even the mention of Davey make him so… so… soft.

“Thanks Race,” Crutchie said, throwing a mock glare in his direction. He probably knew that Race was going to do exactly that. “Bumped in’a him, even offered to carry my papes.”

“And how’d you know it was Davey, I’se sure there’s plenty’a Davey’s out there.”

Why was Jack so badly trying to prove it wasn’t _his_ Davey? Why was that so bad? Since when was he _his_ Davey?

“His kid brother,” Crutchie explained, “called him David and he looked just like how you’d described. Tall, dark hair—“

Jack didn’t want to hear anything else. “Alright, alright, it’s my Davey. What ‘bout it?”

It was Race that spoke next. “What ‘bout it? Cowboy, you ain’t shut up ‘bout him for _years_ an’ Crutch here tells ya that _your_ Davey’s out there an’ all you can say is—“ He put on a deeper voice— “ _What ‘bout it?_ ”

Blinking, Jack reeled back from everything Race had just said. The kid, the one who could barely sting a coherent sentence together usually, had told him off for not saying anything. Not everyone had their thoughts compartmentalized like Race sometimes appeared to have.

“Well, what do you’se want me to say? Oh, you want me to go run 'bout tryna find some kid I didn’t even know was real ‘til now. I dunno anythin’ 'bout him, not now. You come up with an idea and I’ll write it down, yeah?”

Race huffed but left it alone after that; he was quite happy to drop the subject in favor of talking about Spot Conlon. Or, “He told me his name was Sean and his parents were Irish. I said you could barely tell.”

Jack decided not to mention that it was actually very obvious because, try as he might, Spot couldn’t keep up an accent to save his life. Seriously, Jack found it painfully embarrassing whenever he tried. Lucky for both of them, Spot had dropped trying all together and it sounded much better.

“Racer, shuddup.”

Race frowned. “Just ‘cause you won’t go after Davey don’t mean you have to take it out on me.”

Crutchie was nodding off in the corner and Jack gestured to him. “You’re borin’ him to sleep. C’mon, long day tomorrow.”

For a moment, it seemed like Jack had swayed him but then Race shook his head. “Ah, c’mon Cowboy! I told you ‘bout your sweetheart, ya gotta let me talk ‘bout mine.

Jack was almost tempted. Very tempted, in fact, but then he shook his head. “Antonio, go to sleep.”

“You ain’t no fun, Jackie boy.”

Race laid down on his makeshift bed and Jack followed suit. The stars in the sky reminded him, shockingly, of Davey’s eyes. There had been dreams where it had just been Davey talking about things he enjoyed. Sometimes it was the books he had read and once or twice it was the academic decathlon team (what even was that?) that he had been in. Jack had watched as the dream unfolded before him, and he often did, but every time it was a scene where Davey was just _talking,_ he saw him brighten.

He swore, up and down, that there were stars in his eyes. It made Jack’s knees buckle and most of the time, he wasn’t even standing up.

Race breathed out harshly. “Jack?”

He hardly ever called Jack by his name. “Yeah, Tony?”

There was a sniffle and Jack felt his heart ache. It felt like it was being squeezed and pulled it out of his chest. “Can I sleep with you? Please?”

“Get over here. Bring the blanket, its cold.” Race laughed and shuffled over, lying right next to Jack. His body heat radiated next to him and Jack had an itching feeling that wanted to ask him what had happened. However, he knew Race would tell him if he wanted to.

He pulled the blanket around them and Race nestled into him and he could feel a small wet patch growing on his shirt. Rubbing a hand up and down his back, Jack quietly shushed him.

“Jack—I—I left out a couple’a things earlier.”

“What’s happened?”

There was a sigh then, “I told Spotti—Spot how I felt about… you know? And he didn’t say anythin’. I really thought he was gonna sock me.”

If Spot really had soaked Race, Jack was going to go to Brooklyn and give him a piece of his mind. Even if that meant war (or as close to a war that a bunch of kids were ever going to get).

“He didn’t. Just told me to get outta his sight.” Sniffling, Race moved and two teary, sorrowful eyes made Jack’s own feel wet. “I think—I think I screwed it up. I did, didn’t I? Jackie, there’s something wrong with me. There is, why would he act like that?”

“There ain’t nothin’ wrong with you, you hear me? You ain’t screwed up, either. Racer, you’re different but that ain’t bad. Spot’s missin’ out.”

Calming down, Race nestled down into the blankets. “Can you tell me about Davey?”

It was an odd request, but having seen his friend—someone he thought of as a brother—so upset had soften him. “Well, he really likes readin’, or, I think he does? I dunno, he always is whenever I see him. Or, most of the time. And…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been really sick recently so I've done more writing. I was going to upload this yesterday but I fell asleep, so whoops. This is going surprisingly well and I'm really waiting for the writer's block.


	4. The Accident

“What?”

_What?_

“David, manners,” Mayer chided as he leaned heavily against the table, resting his head in his hand.

“Okay, fine. _What?”_

It was Esther’s turn as she placed the potatoes onto the table and gently hit David’s chair. “David, please.”

“Mama! If Papa—“

“We know,” Mayer interrupted. When David turned to his father, he realized how tired he looked. The big, dark bags under his eyes stood out against his pale, almost snow white, skin. He looked sick. He was.

They couldn’t _afford_ this.

“We know, son,” he continued. “Esther, dear, do you need any help?”

Esther shook her head. “No, you rest your leg. Sarah, can you help with the vegetables?”

Sarah, who had been sat silently until now, stood up and hurried over to the kitchen. It left David with Mayer and Les. “You too Les.”

For a moment, Les looked like he was going to argue, but he must’ve noticed the same thing and left without any words.

And then there were two. “David, listen, we can afford another two weeks of school but your mother can’t—I hate to ask this of you.”

David knew exactly what was coming, way before Mayer had even insinuated it. Since the beginning, it had been in the back of his mind because he wasn’t stupid. Sure, he wasn’t great at history, but he knew it wasn’t easy, specifically for people like him and his family.

So, before Mayer could finish, David cut him off. “There has to be work at the factory, right?”

“No. Absolutely not. No, you’re still a boy,” Mayer argued, but he stopped as Sarah and Les marched in with bowls of carrots and cabbage. “We’ll finish this after dinner, yes?”

He nodded and smiled up at Sarah. She gave him a look, the ‘you need to tell me everything that’s just happened, but after Les has gone to sleep’ look. David gulped. Sarah, God bless her, was going to really object to the idea of him going to work. It had been a year and yet, she was still of the opinion that he was a baby to this type of life. This meant she hated David going out on his own so if he got a job, he didn’t know that he would hear the end of it.

“Papa, you’re never gonna guess what I did at school today!” Les exclaimed, falling heavily into his seat. The chair rocked to the side and for a frightening moment it looked like he was going to fall when Esther bustled in and caught it.

“Lester! Sit properly in your chair! And you two—ˮ She pointed at David and Sarah, who were trying to hide their snickers—“Wipe those smiles off your faces.”

Les, despite almost crashing to the floor, was still bouncing. “Papa, Papa!”

A pang of sympathy shot through David as he saw his father, who looked considerably done with everything, turned his head to humor Les. If David was being honest, he didn’t know if he would be able to do that. Still, he had time to think about it, his future was a long way off.

Only it wasn’t, he realized. They didn’t have the money to send them all to school anymore, he was going to have to grow up and get a job.

His mood soured again.

“What did you do Les?” Mayer asked. David did have to give him credit, he was incredibly open to Les’ attempts to get everyone’s attention.

As Les launched into his very long explanation of his day, Esther settled down next to Mayer and they seemed to have a conversation with their eyes. Sarah lowered her voice and tugged at David’s elbow.

“What did Papa want?”

Debating whether it was a good idea to tell her or not, David swallowed his food. There was no point keeping a secret from her, she would figure it out eventually. “Papa can’t work, Sar.”

The look he received—the death eyes, as he liked to call it—made him gulp and he looked between everyone else at the table. They seemed engrossed in their own corner. His voice grew softer until he was whispering, “I have to get a job. Papa, he doesn’t want me to get one, ‘course, but you’ve all been so nice—“

Sarah stopped him with a hand. “If I tell you again, I might have to drill it into you. You are _family,_ you don’t owe us anything.”

She wasn’t telling him to not get a job. Was she okay with it? Did she already know they couldn’t afford to live off their mother’s wages? Had she already come to terms with it?

“I know you have to… work…” The way she said it, it sounded like it was the most disgusting word to have ever existed. “I don’t agree with it, you haven’t gotten used to this but, for now, we’ve got to work with what we’ve got, right?”

“Right.”

“You do it to live, not because you feel like you have to repay us, you understand me, David?”

David nodded and Sarah punched his arm, leaning back and laughing. “Now lighten up, old man, stop worrying so much. What was that song again?”

Oh, no. Groaning, he shook his head in his hands as he saw the way Sarah was heading. Second-hand embarrassment was always worse than experiencing it for himself because he couldn’t even make-up an excuse to leave.

Esther looked over. “What are you two laughing about?”

“Well David reminded me of a song from back hom—“

“ _Please_ , do _not.”_

One more night, David promised himself, one more night of just being a schoolboy who only worried about school. Tomorrow was another day and the current situation was a future David problem.

He would worry about it tomorrow.

~~~

Turns out, saving it for the next day was an awful idea. Why? Because he couldn’t just _not_ get worked up about it which meant he was now staring up at the ceiling and _thinking_ about it.

A job, he had to get a _job._ This was an adult thing, a totally grown up, not child-like activity that you got paid for. Paid! As in money! Actual money and not just change his parents would give him when he went out with his friends.

Slipping past Les, making sure not to wake him up, David opened up and climbed out of the window onto the fire escape. The cool air hit him and he breathed a breath as his anxiety began to decrease.

“Hey, you up there, you okay?”

David leaned over and looked out to see a boy about his age. Right, remember, speak proper and like a gentleman. “Yes, you?”

Cringing, he heard the boy laugh. “What’s a kid like you doin’ in a place like this?”

What did he mean by that? David frowned. Just because he—he thought it was the way he spoke—had a different accent, didn’t mean that he shouldn’t have been there. “What do you mean by that?”

“I don’t mean nothin’, just askin’ what a smart boy like you is doin’ in a place like this?”

Oh. Okay. “I live here. What about you, why are you here?”

The boy seemed to think about it, before he shrugged. “Workin’. ‘Bout to make my way home. But, you okay, like, really?”

It wouldn’t harm anyone if David was to tell him. “It’s a long story.”

“Well, I got time.” He leaned against a brick wall and—having slept against one before—David felt his own shoulder scream out in pain.

“Well, if I’m going to tell you, you might as well come up here.”

The boy clambered up, managing to speed his way to the fire escape. In the better light, David noticed how young he looked. It might’ve been the distance, but he had looked a bit older from further away.

Being brought up in 2014, David supposed he forgot that kids used to work. Actual children had to go out day in, day out just to make a little extra money to _survive._ And here he was getting worried about the fact that he would have to.

Suddenly, David felt the embarrassment crawl up his face in a fiery inferno. To make matters worse, the boy had now settled next to him and could probably see his beat red face. Great, what a time to look like a tomato.

“You gonna say somethin’ or you just gonna stare at the wall?”

His window was right there, he could escape. But then he’d be bailing on a teenager. (Thinking it was being helpful, his brain supplied him with the fact that he was _also_ a teenager).

“Uh, hello’? Anyone home?”

“It seems stupid now that I think about it.” Did he seriously say that out loud?

The boy blinked at him and tilted his head. “I just got here, I ain’t leavin’."

There were two choices. Tell the boy his current worries and sound like a brat or tell him that it was nothing and leave him hanging because it was so _obviously_ something. He sighed. Option one it was.

“My father got into an accident.” It was so much more than an accident, it was such a horrifying injury that he couldn’t even put the word ‘accident’ to it. Nothing could explain what had happened to his father. “And he messed up his leg really badly. We can’t live on my mother’s wages, we just can’t.”

Finding his nails incredibly interesting, he continued, “And—and I’ve never worked before. Ever. I’ve always been a book kid, you know? I don’t know what to do. I have to get a job because if I don’t then—then my brother is going to have to and I can’t do that to him.”

“Take a breath there.” The boy pressed a hand to his shoulder and it felt like David was being brought back to earth. He’d have to remember to thank him later. “Alright, I see. You need a job, right?”

David nodded.

“Okay, you ever thought ‘bout bein’ a Newsie?”

A Newsie? Wracking his brain, David could swear he’d never heard of a Newsie before. Unless, it had something to do with newspapers, that sounded right. “Uh… What’s that?”

Doing a double take, the boy leaned back, mouth wide open. “Do you even live in New York? Newsies? Newsboys?”

Oh. _Oh._ Oh, that would make sense.

The boy cackled, David guessed it had something to do with the fact that his face was prickling with heat again. “I cannot wait to tell Cowboy ‘bout that. Christ, thanks for that. Haven’t laughed that hard in a while.”

Waiting for him to calm down, David thought about it. Being a Newsie sounded a thousand times better than working at the factory. It was hard to think about slaving away at a machine or attempting hard manual labor. But selling newspapers, being out in the world and with less strain on him sounded perfect.

“But, really, you don’t look like you could lift anythin’.”

“Hey! I can lift things just fine!”

Incredulously, the boy looked him over. “Yeah, I’m stickin’ with what I said.”

David had to admit that he started laughing then, and ruffled the boy’s blond hair. It took him a moment to realize what he had done, but he didn’t mention it. Especially when the boy seemed not too fazed at it. Must happen a lot to him, David supposed.

“You okay now?” the boy asked after David had stopped. “Sorted it out?”

“I’m feeling better?” That wasn’t meant to be a question. Why was that a question?

The boy shrugged his shoulders, it seemed he wasn’t going to press David any further. Surprisingly, David was grateful for that because he wasn’t sure exactly what he was feeling. He’d rather sort through it on his own.

“I betta get goin’, gotta get back before they close up.” As he started to shimmy down the ladder, David gazed over the railing again.

“You know, considering I just told you my semi-life story, can I get a name?” he called.

For a moment, he looked as if he was considering it. Then he tilted his head. “Antonio, but don’t go round callin’ me that! Am I gonna get yours?”

What more was there to lose? “David!”

Antonio’s eyes grew wide, wider than dinner plates, and his mouth opened and closed until it finally snapped shut. “See you around!”

It was strange to see Antonio so out of sorts despite the fact that they had just had a pretty meaningful conversation. He dismissed it without much fault. Perhaps he just thought David didn’t look like a David?

Still, he was glad that Antonio had talked to him. Now, he had a solid plan. David was going to be a Newsie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent way too long on Tumblr and got really inspired so here's a chapter that I wasn't going to post until tomorrow.
> 
> Also, David not knowing what a Newsie is, is entirely based off of me and the fact that I didn't know that Newsie was a thing people use(d). He grew up in our generation and they're a lot less common now so I feel like he just wouldn't know? I don't know if that makes sense or not. If it doesn't, big f on my part.


	5. The Newsies

First day and the regret was sinking in. Big time.

Les had managed to weave his way into coming along, and Esther put up less of a fight than she would. Mayer had sighed and told the both of them to be careful and not get involved with anything dangerous. David really thought that was aimed at him. He had only walked into a tree once. _Once._

So as the two set out, David made sure to hold extra tight onto Les’ hand.

The day was fine. Not good, not awful, just okay. It wasn’t too hot, which was lucky because David supposed it would be so much worse if he had to start his job sweating and sticky. Problem was that his allergies _really_ didn’t like him. There was a constant feeling of almost sneezing that was irritating him to no end.

Entering the distribution center was disconcerting. Several of the Newsies he recognized from seeing them around town. David paid no mind to the banter, particularly when one obnoxious kid called the seller ‘Weasel’; he just had to roll his eyes at it.

Next up was a kid—someone had called him Race—that David recognized. Blond hair and a slight Italian accent. Antonio. Something in him wanted to call out to him, mainly because of how familiar he felt. But he didn’t.

A boy with a crutch was next and David swore he knew him from somewhere. Then it hit him. Les had dubbed it the ‘David not knowing how to 1898’. As the kid moved past him, he bowed his head to hide his face.

Suddenly, it was him at the front (when did that happen?) and he felt his anxiety spike. “Twenty papers, please.”

“Twenty for the new kid.” Nothing happened for a second and then Mr Wiesel raised an eyebrow at him, like he was waiting. “Let’s see the dime.”

“I’ll pay you when I sell them.” Not for the first time that day, David felt shame rise in him when he heard a couple boys behind him burst into laughter. He briefly looked over to Antonio to see him smiling in amusement. Great. It was times like this that he really wished he had grown up in this time, he was sure he wouldn’t have made that mistake if he had.

Mr Wiesel seemed unbothered. “Funny, kid. C’mon cash up front.”

Reluctantly getting out his coin, another thought crossed his mind. “But whatever I don’t sell, you buy back, right?”

“Certainly. And every time you lose a tooth, I put a penny under your pillow,” Mr Wiesel sneered. If David was being honest, he hoped he never had to speak to him again, he seemed down-right nasty. “This kid’s a riot. C’mon, cough up the cash or blow.”

Hastily placing down the coin, David walked away with his tail between his legs. The newspapers were shoved into him by a tough looking boy? Man? He didn’t want to know, it would be better for everyone if he just got on with it.

Just as a precaution, David counted his newspapers. Les tugged at his cuff, wanting his half. However, he saw a glaring problem. _Nineteen._ They only had nineteen. As if this day couldn’t get any worse they had one less paper than what they were supposed to. Steeling himself, he turned back to Mr Wiesel.

“Sorry, excuse me? You only gave me nineteen when I paid for twenty.”

Looks _could_ kill and the one David was getting was killing him. Internally. Could he just leave and sell his newspapers already? Anymore of this and he was certain he would drop dead from embarrassment.

Someone swooped in and snatched the papers from him. A small “Hey,” escaped from him but there was nothing he could do. His attention turned to Mr Wiesel again.

“You seen how nice I was to this new kid? And what did I get for my civility? Ungrounded accusations.”

Ungrounded accusations his _ass._ David was more offended that his counting skills were being put into question. He damn well knew how to count, he was taught in the future. For crying out loud, he was top of his class! But he couldn’t argue, he promised his father to not get into trouble.

“I just want what I paid for,” he said, cringing at the desperation in his voice.

The two men beside Mr Wiesel cracked their knuckles and the scarier of the two shouted, “He said _beat_ it.”

Looking at them and observing how some of the boys cowered away made David gulp.

Luckily, the spotlight diverted to the boy who had taken his newspaper. He pressed them back into David’s hands. “New kid’s right Weasel, Ya gave him nineteen. I’m sure it was an honest mistake on account’a Oscar can’t count to twenty with his shoes on.”

Oscar made to punch the kid but he ducked away. Mr Wiesel pushed Oscar away and snatched a paper up, tossing it to David, who caught it but almost dropped everything in his arms. “Here, now take a hike.”

Knowing that he was no longer wanted, David moved further away from everyone. That was until he heard, “Give the new kid fifty more papes.”

His head shot up. “I don’t want any more newspapers.”

“What kinda Newsie don’t want more papes?”

The kind that wasn’t actually a Newsie, but he decided that that wasn’t the right thing to say. Instead, he shook his head. “I’m not a charity case, I don’t even know you.”

Surprisingly, as he finally took in the boy’s appearance, David found that he wouldn’t mind getting to know him. He was handsome, there was no point in denying that, but David was sure he was taller. There was something behind his smile, something dark and terribly sad.

Les, bless his brother, was much more assertive and had clearly been listening into their conversation. That was something David was going to have to talk to him about that later. “His name’s Jack.”

Jack, huh? Suited him.

The story behind Jack was interesting. According to the boy with the crutch, he was pretty famous for escaping prison on the back of Teddy Roosevelt’s carriage, which David was taken aback by. Teddy Roosevelt as in _the_ President Roosevelt. Jack was staring at David; it was slightly bewildering because there really was nothing interesting about him.

“Kid, how old are you?” Jack asked, turning to Les.

Puffing out his chest, Les answered proudly. “I’m ten.” Then he seemed to think about something. “Almost.”

David found himself smiling lovingly at his little brother. When he was alone, he secretly thought it was terrifying how quick Les had grown on him, but then he saw him and his adorable little grin and it wasn’t that bad.

“If anybody asks, you’re seven,” Jack instructed, “younger sells more papes, and if we’re gonna be partners—“

Woah, hold on. Partners? “Who says we want to be?”

Everyone gave him the most confused looks he’d ever seen. Some people even whispered around him and he diverted his eyes. Even Jack had his brow raised, as if he were challenging him. He didn’t really want to start an argument.

“Sellin’ with Jack is the chance of a lifetime. You learn from him, you learn from the best,” the boy with the crutch explained.

“If he’s the best then why does he need me?”

David thought it was a good question, but some people shook their heads. It appeared someone thought they were being quiet and he heard, “Because it’s Dream Kid.”

They were strange, but David put it down to the fact that he didn’t know them yet. People had their own way of doing things and he just hadn’t learnt it yet.

Jack sent a glare to, who David presumed, was the owner of the voice but composed himself with practiced ease. “’Cause you got a little brother, and I don’t. That face could sell a thousand papes a week.” His attention turned to Les. “Look sad, kid.”

Les’ reaction was immediate. A pout and a slouch later and Jack was happy. “We’re gonna make millions!”

Beofre saying anything, Les looked to David for affirmation. Really, Les didn’t need anyone’s permission but it was nice that he asked before doing anything. Especially in a place full of strangers. “I’m Les and this is my brother, David.”

The reaction was immediate. In the corner, a bunch of laughs broke out. Antonio was hitting a boy with red hair, almost bursting with excitement. Everyone seemed to be whispering about them. Jack was pushed forward by the boy with the crutch It would be fair to say that Jack had the strangest response.

He was frozen, staring straight at David like he’d seen a ghost. But his eyes, they held the same hope and adoration as—

As…

Was that the ghost he’d seen? The boy who had lead him the bricks? No, why was he still on this? Supernatural occurrences didn’t happen because they weren’t real. It was a trick. Still, the two looked so similar now that he thought about it.

No. Stop. David, no. Nip that in the bud. Ghosts didn’t exist, it was a coincidence. That was all.

“Nice to meet ya, Davey.”

Eyes stared at him, some in wonder and others in distrust. Wait, that wasn’t his name. Jack continued, “My two bits come off the top, and we split everythin’ seventy-thirty.”

That was robbing them, surely. At least Les seemed to realize that. “Fifty-fifty!” Les argued. “You wouldn’t try to pull a fast one on a little kid.”

It impressed Jack as he looked like he wasn’t expecting that. “Sixty-forty and that’s my final offer.”

If he was being honest, maybe a little help wouldn’t be so bad. So when Les looked to him for his opinion, he gave a small nod. “Deal!”

Jack spat in his hand and held it out in offering. Maybe it was the fact that David had been brought up in a place where that was rude, or maybe it was that that he couldn’t imagine doing that but he recoiled. Surprisingly, Les followed Jack’s example.

“That’s disgusting,” David said.

“It’s just business,” Jack shrugged, without turning back. Then he turned to the group at large. “Newsies, hit the streets! The sun is up, the headline stinks and this kid ain’t getting’ any younger.”

Just like that, everyone filed out of the distribution center, leaving Jack, David and Les behind. First day, here they come.

~~~

Selling newspapers was hard. Way harder than expected. Seriously, these kids had it just as bad as everyone else. David could feel his throat going and he’d only been at it for a day. And hardly anyone had bought anything.

Jack was finding it incredibly amusing. Sure, he had pointed out the best selling spots and he had given some great pointers to catch people’s attention. It was a bit hard to try when you felt your every move was being examined though and Jack hadn’t stopped staring since this morning.

Did he have a problem? What had David done?

So, David thought, he’d impress Jack with his ability. “Paper, paper! Evening paper here.”

It didn’t work and the newspaper was snatched out of his. That was becoming a pattern. “Sing ‘em to sleep why dontcha?”

“Extra, extra! Terrified flight from burnin’ inferno. You heard it right here!” Yes, Jack could hawk pretty well; he knew how to get attention and keep the spotlight on him. People listened to him, it was no wonder why all the Manhattan Newsies respected him. However, there was one glaring issue with it. Jack was lying out of his _ass._

Even better, Jack was waving the coin in front of his face.

“You made that up,” David said. Besides, if there really had been a burning inferno, David would’ve read that article.

Jack made a noise, “Did not. I said they heard it right here, and they did.”

If Jack had been a boy from his time, David might’ve laughed. But they were working, he had to make money and he couldn’t afford not to. And it wasn’t funny, _Jack_ wasn’t funny. (He kind of was).

“My father taught me not to lie.” That came out wrong; he sounded like Les.

In response, Jack scoffed, “And mine taught me not to starve.”

David decided that he’d unpack that later because today had just been full of sharp reminders of how much better he’d had it at home. Times like this and he just wanted to be back with his friends and not constantly have to scrape by.

Watching the time, David wondered where Les was. Esther wanted them home before dark, but it was looking like that wasn’t going to happen. Plus, when Les was there, Jack’s attention was diverted. Maybe he should bring up the staring because it really was bothering him.

“Hey, have I upset you or something?”

Jack tilted his head. “Why’d ya think that?”

Time for answers. “You haven’t stopped watching me since this morning. At all. So, did I do something?”

Before he could get an answer, Les ran around the corner, saying he’d sold out. David felt pride swell in him, his little brother was a natural. At least he would make up for how bad David was.

He handed Les his last newspaper and watched as he put on an act. A cough and sob story later and they had a whole dime. Mayer was going to be so delighted. Esther might even let them have some of the birthday cake they had leftover. Just thinking about the sponge (it was really good, it could rival the bakery that he used to go to back in Santa Fe) had him drooling.

“This is so much better than school!” Les exclaimed.

That had David jumping to life in alarm. “Don’t think like that. You know when Papa gets better that we have to go back.”

Les deflated but nodded sorrowfully. “Hey, we still have a summer full of selling.” He got a smile for his trouble and David ruffled his hair, although he did get a push for that.

When they turned back to Jack, he was counting up coins. Realizing their attention was back on him, he looked up and grinned. It was… No. It was dangerous to think like that.

“So’s how about we divvy up the money, grab some chow, then find you’se somewhere safe to spend the night.”

David stopped at that. All day, he’d been pretty cold and, yeah, that was a bit unfair on his part. Yet, here Jack was, still thinking about the two of them and their safety.

“We’ve got to get home, our folks will be waiting for dinner,” he said.

“You’ve got folks?” Was he disappointed? Having parents didn’t change anything. Moving towards Jack, David stopped when he heard Les behind him.

“Doesn’t everyone?”

Sometimes he forgot Les was nine and didn’t really understand how the world worked. He’d have to talk to him about how insensitive that was. Later, though, because now all the light that Jack had radiating from him had dimmed.

“Our dad had an accident with a delivery truck when he was out working. It messed up his leg really badly. It’s why we’re working,” David explained.

Jack shrugged. “Sure. Too bad about your dad.”

Putting aside how irritating he’d been all day, David invited him to dinner. Maybe he was annoying, but he had a good heart. The fact that Jack had been concerned about their safety after only knowing him for a few hours proved that. It was the least David could do.

“Thanks for the invite, but I just remembered I got plans with a fella.” Somehow, David doubted that. “He’s pro’lly waitin’ on me.”

Well, he wasn’t going to push it if Jack really didn’t want to go. Still, he tried.

“Is that the fella you’re meeting?”

Following Les’ pointing hand, revealed a large, imposing figure dressed in all black. It could be said that he looked like a phantom in the shadows. “Kelly!”

His voice, deep and commanding sent a chill down David’s spine. He was grabbed. In his ear he could faintly hear Jack shout, “Run!”

But he was fixated on this man. Eyes scrunched and pupils narrowed into slits, like a snake. They were black and cold.

He was running. All three of them were. Jack led the way, leading them through the winding streets. Were they always this long? Heavy footsteps. Police whistles. Then he was pulled into a doorway and he could feel the burn in his legs.

Really shouldn’t have given up on gym. Breathless and angry, he snapped his head to look at Jack, who was clutching at the railing and gasping. “Who was that guy?”

Credit where credit was due, Jack answered. “That was Snyder. The Spider.”

Charming nickname there. Still, he went on. “Real sweetie. Runs a jail for kids called the Refuge. More kids he locks up, more city pays him. But all that money, goes into his own pocket.” Jack straightened up and grabbed him by the shoulder. “Just, steer clear of him and the Refuge.”

The absolute terror in his eyes just speaking about it made David nod his head vigorously. It wasn’t something he expected to see in Jack. Fear didn’t suit him. “Yeah, don’t worry. Haven’t got plans to see him again.”

“Hey, you up there, shoo! No kids allowed in the theatre.”

Jolting out of Jack’s clasp, David almost tripped backwards but caught his balance easily.

Leaning over the railing, Jack called down, “Not even me, Miss Medda?” David could hear the grin on his face and it pulled at the corner of his own mouth. It was infuriating how quick his feelings about Jack could change. One minute he would be the most annoying person to ever exist, the next he would be the sweetest.

“Jack Kelly! Man of mystery, get yourself down here and give me a hug.”

Oh, so they knew each other. That was… intriguing. Yeah, intriguing. Seriously, what had Jack done? He was wanted by a warden, he had been in the paper during his ‘daring’ escape and this Miss Medda knew him.

David and Les followed Jack down the stairs. A long time ago, he had been big on theatre and he could still remember that feeling as you took in the backstage space. The differences were astounding. There were more ropes and David spied some backgrounds in the corner. They were expertly painted, beautiful, even.

Miss Medda and Jack were looking at him. “Hello?”

“You sure that’s him? I thought he’d be taller.”

Jack groaned. “I said he was taller than me.”

What?

_What?_

Was Les hearing this? Where was he, anyway? Turning around and he had found him. Staring at some ladies, or rather at the fact that that they were wearing tights. “What are you doing?”

“I thought they’re not allowed to do that?”

True, but that wasn’t an issue at the moment. Still, David could explain. “It’s a costume, it doesn’t apply to them.”

Les nodded, hanging onto his every word. “Ah.”

Shaking his head, David span around only to come face to face with Jack. Since when was he behind him? Medda laughed from behind them and they both took a step back, Jack throwing a glare back in her direction.

“Oh, Medda, I got a situation outside, do you think we can hide here for a while?” Jack asked.

She seemed to understand, her face washed over with sympathy. “Snyder giving you trouble again?”

It didn’t need saying and David saw the need to divert the conversation. “Those are gorgeous backdrops, Miss.”

“Well, they would do, Jack painted them,” Medda said and David’s jaw dropped.

Jack did that. _Jack_ did that. It was so… so realistic and peaceful-looking. Looking at that, David felt like he could almost walk through it and into that small forest that he had made. Medda continued, “Say, when you’re free, do you think you could paint me some more? Folks loved them and I can pay you this time.”

“You pictured that?” Les exclaimed in awe.

“Calm down, it’s just a bunch’a trees.”

David wanted to reassure him that it was certainly enough to freak out about because it was _stunning._ Absolutely amazing. He should have been in art school; he could be making so much money off of his artwork. Problem was, he didn’t know how to put that into words. Didn’t mean he couldn’t try, though.

“You’re really good.”

Jack gave him a blinding smile.

It seemed Medda agreed. “That boy’s got natural aptitude.”

She could be say that again. And louder. Much louder. Jack had talent and it was almost depressing how much of that was being squandered because he couldn’t afford to go to art school. Or because he couldn’t even worry about that because he had to focus on surviving. Someone called Medda to the stage and she turned to them.

“Right boys, you go find a spot and stay all night. You’re with Medda now.”

It would be a long night, but one to remember. The music began and the anxiousness seeped out of his skin for the evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So me, not editing ever, realized, as I was reading what I'd written for reference, that I wrote that David had blue eyes. I blame that entirely on the fact that I was watching 92sies as I wrote that and he has really blue eyes in that. Like there is blue and then there's Davey. So, I'm going to go back to correct that later because this is all based on the Broadway.
> 
> On another note, I'm certain I accidentally wrote some real-time dub lines in because I was watching that.


	6. The End Of The First Day

Jack had disappeared. One moment he had been behind them, the next he was gone. He’d left them, which David really didn’t appreciate because he was sort of their guide. With Jack, he’d at least know if he’d overstayed his welcome but now it was a guessing game.

Throughout the rest of the performance, he was constantly glancing around, trying to find where Jack had went. His search came up fruitless, until he caught a glimpse of two people up in one of the boxes. There was a woman and… that was definitely Jack. Although, he was hunched over, his hand dancing furiously over what looked like a newspaper.

The woman stood up abruptly and Jack’s head shot up, placing a hand over his lips. David decided he wouldn’t stick around any longer, especially considering that Les was falling asleep standing up. Besides, Jack was busy, he didn’t want to be an inconvenience.

“Les, time to go home, bud,” he said. Les was swaying, eyes drooping but he managed to nod his head. Wondering if he’d be able to carry him, David looked up one last time to see Jack staring at him again. Smiling, he mouthed a “Thank you,” before taking Les by the hand.

“Do you think you can walk or do you want me to carry you?”

“You’re too scrawny,” Les chuckled, “Race told me that.”

David would have to thank Antonio for that later. At least, he thought Race and Antonio were the same. “Oh my back. I can’t carry you any other way.”

Humming, Les stumbled towards him. It took quite a bit of maneuvering and instructing on his part, but soon he was in place and they could start making their way home. He hoped that it wouldn’t be too dark because he wasn’t sure how comfortable he would be in the dead of night.

Walking back to where they’d entered, David heard some heavy footsteps behind him. “Davey!”

“Jack?”

“Yeah, where you’se goin’. Show ain’t finished yet.”

Shrugging, David gestured with his head to where Les was sleeping on his back. As if he subconsciously knew he was needed, Les even started quietly snoring. “Don’t want to worry Mama and Les is tired. He needs to eat before he’s too deeply asleep.”

Jack nodded, although he frowned and pulled his lower lip in to nibble at. Leaving him like that felt wrong, so David thought he’d throw out his earlier offer. “You can still come back for dinner, you know? Mama probably cooked too much anyway.”

He pointedly left out that she probably hadn’t because they hadn’t had enough money to do that for weeks now. But Jack didn’t need to know that, he had already helped them out quite a bit and he didn’t need to hear about his own problems on top of that.

“Nah, I don’t wanna, uh, y’know?”

Somehow, David seemed to understand what he was saying. “Impose?”

“Yeah! That word. You go home, I’ll walk ya.”

So, David followed Jack out as he managed to navigate them out the theatre and onto the streets. That was where he stopped, looking deep in though. He was about to ask if he was okay when Jack twisted to face him. “Where’d you live?”

Once he had the address, Jack took them through a dew shortcuts. Every time David tried to object, because it was incredibly dangerous, particularly when it was almost pitch black, Jack would dismiss it with a wave of his hand. “Davey, I know this streets like the back’a my hand. You’se have nothin’ to worry ‘bout.”

And strangely, David believed that. If he was being honest, he probably shouldn’t, but he did.

They reached the Jacobs’ and Jack began to slow, coming to a stop a couple doors down. “Well, here’s you. I’m gonna wait ‘til you’re inside and then go, ‘kay?”

David blinked once, twice and stared at his home. Kathy used to do the same thing, she never waited outside but she would always be a few houses down. It was strange that they had the same habit, but David supposed that he must just attract the same sort of people.

Not that he attracted Jack or that he liked him in the same way he did Kathy. No, not at all. (Where did that come from? Kathy hadn’t been on his mind in months).

“Davey?”

Snapping back to reality, David nodded his head. “Are you sure you don’t want to come in?”

“Sure as sure,” Jack said, “I’ll see ya tomorrow. And Les too, ‘course.”

Yeah, of course. Les too. “Bye, Jack. Get home safe.”

For a moment, he almost said to text him when he got back but he stopped before he could. Why was he thinking like this all of a sudden? It had been a year, he should’ve been over this ages ago. He had been, or he was sure he had been. Maybe he wasn’t as adjusted as he thought.

If he didn’t make an issue over it or stopped thinking about it then it didn’t happen, he reasoned. Knocking on the door, he sent one last glance to Jack, who waved. Sarah opened the door and launched herself at him.

“David! We thought you weren’t going to come home. Where’s Les?” She was speaking at a million miles an hour. “Oh, found him.”

Les’ head popped up, mumbling and wiping his drool on David’s shirt. Laughing, Sarah helped him down and took them inside. “Mama was waiting for you.”

The feeling of coming back home, where it was warm and he had a bed to sleep in, after a long day wasn’t something he expected to feel so young. Quite honestly he hoped he never had to again, although that was a child’s dream.

Mayer was sat at the table, newspaper in hand and his head shot up as Sarah skipped into the room. “Papa, look who I found at the door.”

“David! Come, sit at the table, is that Les behind you?”

Dragging his feet against the wooden floor, Les flung himself onto the chair, David following suit. It was then that Esther bounded into the room. “Oh, my boys, you’re home! I have food ready.”

Esther moved to the kitchen and David jammed his hand into his pocket and took out the money they’d made. He could swear that he was forgetting something… Jack! They had made a deal, hadn’t they? Sixty percent of the money was his. And David had completely forgotten.

Oh, he would give him his share tomorrow, he’d just have to remember. Which… was easier said than done. Mainly because David was pretty forgetful and it seemed to go in one ear and out the other for him. Kathy used to tell him that he was a daydreamer but he didn’t think that was the case. It just so happened that when he was thinking, he had a tendency to zone out.

“… Isn’t that right, David?”

Les usually talked pretty fast and loud but his speech had slowed and he was muttering. Although, everyone had adapted to hear Les’ whispers. Still, he tilted his head. “What?”

Mayer sighed fondly, “Les was telling me about your day. Jack ring a bell?”

Yeah, he did. “He’s our…” What was he? Technically, their partner but David didn’t count that because partners didn’t take each other to theatres on their first day working together. “Friend.”

“I’m glad that you’re making friends and—thank you, my dear—I told you it wouldn’t be so bad, didn’t I?”

During their conversation, Esther had come back in with their dinner. She placed the plates in front of them and sat down in her own seat. “So how’s your day been, boys?”

Les, despite how exhausted he was, was more than happy to divulge the details. It was useful because it gave David some time to think about things. Sort through it. He wasn’t exactly sure what he had to compartmentalize, though. There was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind but he couldn’t place what it was.

Something about Jack reminded him so entirely of Kathy. What it was, he didn’t know, but it was there.

David ate his dinner in silence.

~~~

“David, David. _David._ ”

Rolling over, he saw that Sarah had slipped into bed with him and Les. That wasn’t unusual, in fact, it happened a lot. However, it hadn’t happened in weeks so it had David frowning. “Sarah, Sarah. _Sarah._ ”

She punched his arm lightly but laughed into his pillow. Yes, he would’ve been giggling along with her too, if it wasn’t for the fact that she was going to probe him for information and he was going to have to put his feelings into words. Sarah had that effect on everyone. Anything she wanted out of him, she would get.

“But really, what happened today? Meet anyone?”

“I suppose.”

It was cryptic, he knew that. Hopefully it would sate her curiosity. Only, of course it wouldn’t. “What does that mean?”

Surprisingly, it was pretty hard to shrug his shoulders in bed. Deciding it was too much hassle to lie to Sarah, David sat out of bed, carefully moving Les away. “Outside,” he whispered to her. He had to pull her out onto the fire escape. “Not here.”

When they were outside, Sarah tilted her head in confusion. “David, what—“

“Jack, he’s a boy that sells newspapers. I—I think he’s… Sarah, have you ever bumped into someone you think could be _related_ to people back—in the future.”

Sarah sighed, leaning against the railing. “Once. At the beginning. I thought I saw someone, it made getting used to this all much harder.” Then, her chin dipped down and the familiar burn of determination flared up in her eyes. “Who do you think Jack—“

“Kathy,” he said, cutting Sarah off. The fire dimmed into sympathy.

“Oh, David. David, you can’t, you know you can’t. If you get close then, then… I can talk to Mama and Papa about a different jo—“

That was really the last thing he wanted. It might’ve been a day but selling newspapers had something about it, much better than any factory. Particularly, the people—children—there. Maybe with time, they could be… _friends._

David shook his head. “I’ll find a way. I can avoid Jack.”

As he said that, something didn’t feel right. Quite honestly, not talking to Jack sounded worse than getting a new job. It seemed Sarah caught onto it.

“David, you know you can’t. Do it for Kathy,” she said, placing a hand on his arm, “Do it for her.”

Moving out of her hold, he looked out over the street. People walked past, although they were few and far between. One woman briefly looked up and they locked eyes. Auburn hair, brown, bright eyes. _Kathy._

Not understanding why David’s face dropped, the woman shrugged and continued on, throwing glances back at him from over her shoulder. Gazing back at Sarah, he saw that she was also following the woman.

“Sar, we can’t give up on our lives because we’re from the future. Look at Papa, he found Mama.” She turned to him.

“I know David, but I know better than anyone how much Kath meant to you. You wouldn’t want to mess with something,” Sarah said. “If you did something then Kathy might not exist and then… well, you wouldn’t have come here and then time paradox…?”

Well, yes, but actually no. Time travel wasn’t meant to exist, but David was living proof of it. Certainly, a time paradox (sounded like something right out of _Doctor Who_ , actually) wouldn’t have been out of the question. But it was hard to wrap his head around.

“We don’t know,” David sighed. “We just don’t know.”

A cacophony of silence rang out. Sarah dropped her head, knowing anymore arguing was pointless. “You need to be up early tomorrow. Come, let’s go inside. Be careful tomorrow.”

Following, David gave one last look to the street. He could stop seeing Jack, make up an excuse about something or another. If only to make sure that he came to 1898. And maybe for Kathy, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might take a long time to publish during October because I'm currently doing Fictober as well. I also have plans to write NaNoWriMo so it might be a while between parts. Anyways, hope you enjoy and have a nice day!


	7. The Strike Begins

Poor life decisions were a problem, mainly because David kept making them. However, how Esther knew he’d recently made one was a mystery. He had walked into the kitchen and there she was with that familiar sympathy smile and a cup of warm tea, a treat he wasn’t sure they could afford at the moment.

It was nice, but she was acting suspicious. “You two have fun, maybe you can bring _Jack_ back for supper.”

Ah, so she’d heard the conversation. That was why she had been so kind to him that morning. But what was she trying to say? Esther, aside from Sarah, was the hardest to read in the family. Her poker face was made for… well, poker.

Was she trying to say it was a good idea that he was talking to Jack or was she agreeing with Sarah about the risks he shouldn’t be taking?

Could anybody speak straight in this time?

Debating whether he should ask what she meant, David was pulled out the door by Les, exclaiming enthusiastically of the day they were going to have. The moment was gone and now he had to assume, which probably wouldn’t end well for him. That was only because he never interpreted it the right way.

Walking to the distribution center was strange. His head screamed that they were going the wrong way, he should be going to school. It would take a while before he was used to it. Other than that, it was quite tranquil. Les had fun naming all the things he could see in people’s windows, David even joined in a block away from their destination.

Arriving, it still felt surreal. “Morning everyone! Sorry we’re late.”

“You ain’t missed nothin’,” someone replied and David eyed them. The girl who’d spoken was in the furthest corner and had her arms crossed. Guarded, he was sure he’d read once, or disproving. One or the other.

Another kid—David thought he was called Henry—came over and whispered something in her ear. She stood straighter, one arm dropping from their vice like grip on her bicep. “Why, what made your mornin’ so excitin’?”

“Our mama wanted our help,” Les said proudly, puffing out his chest.

“Oh, you got a mother?” Antonio—no, Race—asked, “I was gonna get me one’a those.”

Talking about parents, specifically his own, made David uncomfortable because he recognized that most of the children there weren’t lucky enough to have one. It was unknown territory, no one person would act the same. Jack had brushed it off with nothing but a shrug and a lopsided grin.

“What’d you do with the one you had?”

Race shot the speaker a glare until another one piped up. “He traded her for a box’a cigars.”

David had to admit that he laughed at that, covering his chuckles with a hand as Race made to punch the kid. “They’s was Coronas!”

The lightness of the exchange was broken by none other than Les. “We have a father too!”

Suddenly, everyone’s eyes were once again trained on the pair of them. David found himself scratching at the back of his neck, glaring at the ground. If only they could go _one_ day without causing a scene.

“A mother _and_ a father.”

 _And Sarah too,_ David added bitterly. He had to bite his tongue to avoid saying that out loud.

“Ain’t we the hoi polloi?” Race teased.

His lip straightened into a taut line as he stared down the Newsies, refusing to feel guilty over the fact that he had parents. Although, he couldn’t say for definite that that was what they were trying to do. In fact, it was probably just a David thing.

“So, how’s it going today?” Les asked, breaking the ice. Thank God for his little brother and his ability to make anything less awkward. The next time they passed the sweet shop, he’d have to grab something for him.

A Newsie shrugged. “Ask me after they put up the headline.”

Speak of the devil, someone came out to write on the board. Everyone watched with eagerness as the letters formed. At least, they did until they realized what the sentence meant.

“’New Newsies Price: Sixty Cents per Hundred ’?” Albert—he was sure that was the red head’s name—said incredulously.

What? _What?_

Chaos broke out among the group. Whispers came from every corner, some people shouted out in protest. Race looked just about ready to burst into tears although his face dropped into a frown when he noticed people staring. Some kids burst straight out into tears.

Could he and Les afford the new cost? Instinctively, his hands clutched the loose change in his pockets. _Count,_ he demanded, _count it._

Zoning out, staring at Les’ distraught, twisted face, he thumbed the coins. Realizing they had enough, he breathed a sigh of relief. They could buy the papers, they could make money today. He wasn’t so sure about the other days, he could barely sell all his yesterday. But Les… Les could do it.

Would he have to work in the factory anyway?

From the corner of his eye, he saw Jack walk in. Jack caught his gaze and grinned, cocking his head. Right, he had to break up the partnership. Just to make sure he didn’t cause a time paradox. And maybe for Kathy.

“Hey Dave—“

“Jack! Jack, they jacked up the prices.”

“Jack, you seen the headline?”

“Jack, we’re gonna have to sell more.”

“We’ll be sleepin’ on the streets!”

_Jack, Jack, Jack._

Ignoring Jack was going to be more difficult than it seemed. The darker, more selfish part of his mind hissed at him. He didn’t have to avoid him, they could be friends, besides it wouldn’t matter anyways because Kathy was no longer his concern.

_Time paradox, David, time paradox._

Jack dismissed them with a wave of his hand, chuckling. “Relax, it’s gotta be a gag, c’mon.”

David wished he had taken history, or even paid more attention to the musicals Kathy loved. He could swear there was one about this exact event…

Watching on in apprehension, David hoped against hope that Jack was right, that it was just a joke. They could laugh at it later, Jack might even explain how it happened a lot and—ah, who was he kidding? Pulitzer didn’t joke. Maybe change the way newspapers worked entirely, but probably never developed a sense of humor.

This whole thing seemed rotten to the core. His hope, once a burning flame only yesterday, had dwindled into embers. Still, wasn’t it said phoenixes rose from ashes? Maybe Pulitzer could surprise them.

Wiesel sneered at them, a malicious quality to his face. It took David aback and he had to grab onto Les to stop him from following after the group. No way was he getting close to that.

He watched in abject horror as Jack asked for his hundred papers only to be turned away. That confirmed it. To make as much as they had yesterday, they would have to sell more. David was new, even Jack had admitted that he wasn’t very good at selling, but now?

Would he have to go to the factory after all? Could he even survive that? Heaven knew he wasn’t the strongest, lifting too much was out of the question, but he was also awful at co-ordination. Surely, he’d get his hand stuck in a machine and be laid off, maybe with one less limb…

 _Calm,_ he ordered himself. The future was uncertain but they could manage the inflation. Of course they could. Besides, it wasn’t forever.

Still, he felt awful for those poor children, this would be their new normal.

Eventually, Jack gave up with a shout. “Fine! Me an’ the fellas’ll take our business to the _Journal_!”

Everyone tailed after him, until Specs (that was right, right?) came and shook his head. “I’ll save you the walk, they upped their prices too.”

“Okay, so we’ll go to the _Sun._ ”

Mr Wiesel grinned. “It’s the same all over town. New day. New _price.”_

Someone snarled, pushing to the front of the crowd. “Why the jack-up?”

Didn’t they see? It was because of profit. The people higher up didn’t care about them, didn’t care that many of them couldn’t afford a place to live or something to eat everyday. If they had money then all they wanted was more of it and they would do what they had to, to get it.

“For those kind’a answers, you gotta go higher up the food chain,” Mr Wiesel said, “so, you buyin’ or movin’ on?”

A slam brought David from his thoughts and he caught Jack looking _furious._ His eyebrows were pulled into a ‘V’ shape and his pupils had narrowed into slits. Even his eyes had scrunched up in ire. “C’mere fellas.”

Les pulled him forward, forcing him into the crowd. Oh, dear. Surely this wouldn’t end well.

Jack sat in the center, hunched and thinking. Funnily, he resembled ‘The Thinker’. Well, he would if he were marble, but he wasn’t.

The boys bantered, made fun of Jack. David was shocked to see Les jump into his defense, pushing people back to give Jack some space. Although, they were called back soon afterwards. His grand plan was basically a strike.

“What?” he asked, “Like a strike?”

Jack’s face lit up, like a lightbulb had gone off inside his head. “You heard Davey! We’s on strike!”

Huh? No, hold it. Davey said what now? “I didn’t say—“

“We shut down this place like them trolley workers,” Jack said. Some of the boys perked up, others fell further into their doubts. A few called out their concerns, mainly about being beaten up by the police.

That was… _depressing._

“Ah, cops ain’t gonna care ‘bout a bunch’a kids, are they, Davey?”

Woah, okay, since when was he involved in this conversation? “Don’t ask me, I’m just trying to feed my family.” Backing away, he was going to leave it there until a hand (wow, it was so warm) wrapped around his wrist.

“An’ the rest’a us is on play time? Just ‘cause we make pennies don’t give ‘em a right to rub our noises in it.”

Well, he had a point. No one should do that, especially to kids. It wasn’t fair, it felt like they were being scammed, which, they probably were. But a strike meant no money… nothing for to compensate for everything they had. Still, neither did those children.

“It doesn’t matter, you can’t strike,” he said, watching as the remaining lights of hope flickered out in people’s eyes. With a sinking feeling, he added, “You’re not a union.”

Jack sparked at this, “Well, what if I says we is?”

Exasperated, he held back the urge to cross his arms. “There’s a lot of things you need to have in order to be a union.”

“Such as?”

Looking at him, David realized that he was giving him a challenge. Chin tilted up slightly and the same fire apparent in his face that Sarah had painted on her face often. If he focused enough, he could see Kathy reflected in it.

Something was drawing him in, it felt like an itch. And, like an idiot, he scratched it. “Like, membership.”

Jack gestured behind him “What’d you call these guys?” The Newsies hollered, waving.

Okay, fair game. He should’ve expected that.

“And officers.” Waiting to see how they could get out of that, Crutchie chirped up.

“I nominate Jack president!”

It really wasn’t supposed to go like this and David found his reasons running out. Why did they want to go on strike? Surely, it wouldn’t end well. Then, it dawned on him. They had everything to lose if they didn’t try.

Jack laughed, “Gee, I’m touched!”

 _No,_ he told himself, _don’t argue anything else._

“How about a statement of purpose?”

For a moment, there was a look of surprise on his face. Confusion masked, Jack shrugged. “Must’a left it my other pants.”

Jack had backed himself in a corner, no other retorts left. David wondered if it was because he didn’t have one or he didn’t know what it was. Their staring contest was cut off by Race, whose voice had gotten terribly small.

“What’s a statement of purpose?”

Someone usually so boisterous shouldn’t have to sound… so unsure and like he was afraid to ask. In pity, David sighed. “A reason for forming the union.”

It was the opportunity Jack was waiting for. “Well, what reason did the trolley workers have?”

David really wanted to say that he didn’t know because he didn’t work there. Externally, he shook his head. “I—I dunno?” Damn, now he was turning to slang. Esther wasn’t going to be happy. “Wages? Work hours? Safety on the job?”

Noticing he’d just listed a bunch of things that anyone would want, he sighed. Really, he should remember to think before he spoke. His mothers, Esther and the one in 2014, had told him that he ran his mouth because his mind ran a mile a minute. He’d have to work on that, he supposed.

“Who don’t need that?” Jack asked and then his voice dropped an octave, “Bet if your father had a union then you wouldn’t be out here sellin’ papes. Yeah?”

Swallowing, David lowered his eyes. Of course Jack had recalled what he had said yesterday and of course he had decided to bring it up. But it was true, he wouldn’t be there if his dad had actually had a union. “Yeah.”

Finally turning to the Newsies, sending a last sympathetic glance in David’s direction, he called out, gesturing everyone to him. “So, our union is hereby formed to watch each other’s backs. ‘Union’d we stand’. Hey, that’s not bad, someone write that down.”

That was that, David supposed. Watching as Les was pronounced the ‘Secretary of State’, he thought back to what Jack had said. Then, he had to weigh the pros and cons.

**Pros:**

  1. They could win and lower the prices. Only if they played their cards right but they could.
  2. Maybe, just maybe, he could help kids get their voice. A day into this job and David would jump at the chance to help them.



**Cons:**

  1. No money would be coming in from him or Les during the entirety of the strike. Could they survive that? He wasn’t sure, he couldn’t act rashly.
  2. **Everything could be messed up. Time paradoxes or time something or another. Kathy may never exist.**



Chiding himself, David took a deep breath. Nothing was ever set in stone and time paradoxes were most likely a fantasy. Then again, he hadn’t believed that time travel was a thing until it had happened to him.

“—who tells Pulitzer? Davey?”

Ah, who cared? Rash decisions were his strong point after all. “I guess you do, Mr President.”

Cheering, Jack pulled him up to stand on the same level. Scanning everyone, David realized that the depleted hope in the Newsies had come back. The dying embers had been nursed back into a flame.

“That’s right, _we_ do!” Jack leaned in a bit, looking hesitant. “Uh, wh—what do we tell him?”

Okay, that was sort of… cute? No, he wasn’t like that. Jack was just… usually charming. Yes, that was it and the break from his usual character had just caught him off guard.

That was it.

Yeah…

David whispered about how Pulitzer had to respect them as workers. Jack echoed his words, paraphrased. The Newsies responded with another cheer and a few shouts as Jack continued with his speech.

Les caught his eye. His smile was like sunshine. Maybe, it actually was.

Then…

_Shit._

How was he supposed to explain this to his parents? Sarah was going to be _beyond_ furious.

Jack took a hold of his shoulder and he knew then that whatever the reaction was, he wouldn’t care because he was going to help these kids win their strike. And he was going to do it beside Jack, no matter what Sarah thought of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took me a while. I don't like rewriting the musical scenes, however to write it the way I want to, it makes skipping the strike a bit hard. So, I'm going to power through it. Still, it will be a while because I'm busy with personal things at the moment.  
> Thank you for the patience!
> 
> I'm generally more active on Tumblr, at the end of October I'm going to post what I've done of Fictober, although I ended up going for Whumptober instead because I'm still trying to practice writing like that. Though, I did do some Fictober prompts but it wa smainly description.
> 
> I forgot my history thing for today. So, based on the fact that I couldn't find how much tea cost in 1899 and the fact that it was apparently around the same price as 1817, tea would've cost 2 dollars, which I decided was a fair enough price for David's family to pay for it.


	8. David And Kathy

Jacobi’s was a small place and not well furnished. Although, it did look like the owner had tried. It had a cozy sort of aura about it despite how little there was. The Newsies seemed right at home though, taking almost all the seats.

David took one with hesitance. This was his life now, he was going to have to try and win a strike against Pulitzer. The Pulitzer. Didn’t he have an award named after him?

Gulping, he raised a glass, capturing everyone’s attention. He had to show them that he was on their side now; that he was going to help no matter what. This wasn’t a moment he could mess up.

“I’d say that we started the strike in a most auspicious manner,” he said. Beady eyes blinked at him and he realized no one had any idea what he’d said. Way to go, he was off to an amazing start.

Someone—David had to start learning their names—took pity on him. “I dunno ‘bout that, but I’ll say we sure scared the bejeebers outta Weasel!”

Jack pulled him aside as the Newsies started to cheer. “So, uh, what do we do next?”

Stumped, David blinked a couple of times before cocking his head to side. What did Jack mean by that? Did he not have a plan past this point? He had to turn away then and his hand started to rub together as he thought. If Jack didn’t have something planned then it was up to David to come up with something.

“Spread the word. Let the rest of the city’s Newsies know about strike,” David suggested, spinning back.

Jack laughed and grabbed his shoulder. “Daves, you’se a genius.” Before David could even react to the statement (and the nickname), Jack was now talking to everyone. “Right boys, we gotta let the other Newsies know what we’se doin’. We all split and spread the word, yeah?”

A couple of them called out with Jack delegating the last couple. At least, until Brooklyn came up. Everyone diverted their attention. A few even ducked behind the tables, as if Jack's sight was like being sought after by the devil.  Personally , David didn’t understand that.

“Aw, c’mon, it’s  just  Brooklyn,” Jack said, trying to get someone to do it, “Spot Conlon’s turf. Finch—ˮ Finch’s head shot up, frowning— “You tellin’ me that you’re scared of Brooklyn?”

Jumping up, Finch looked affronted. “I ain’t afraid’a no turf!” Jack rose an eyebrow  skeptically . In answer, Finch bowed his head and scratched his neck, “But that Spot Conlon got me a little jittery.”

The Newsies murmured in agreement.

Who was Spot Conlon? A Newsie? Because, if David was correct, usually kids were Newsies and no child he’d ever seen had been scary. At least, not enough for a reaction like that. Though, this was a different time so it could be possible.  Maybe  it might be best if he stayed away from Spot.

“Racer,” Jack called, “Spot listens to you, why don’t you try?”

Race only shook his head, looking like a puppy left alone. It was enough for Jack to nod his head and then say, “You know what, me and Davey’ll go.”

“Woah, Davey’s going to do what now? I have—ˮ

Someone—a woman—entered Jacobi’s. Almost immediately, she launched into a question. “Why’s everyone so scared of Brooklyn?”

No, it couldn’t be. He knew that voice. But she… she was in a different time. She couldn’t be here. It wasn’t possible.

Turning  slowly , David saw Kathy come into view. Same auburn hair, bright smile and rounded cheeks. Oh, God. Kathy was here. His best friend, who he’d thought was in over a hundred years in the future, was stood there.

“Ka—Kathy?” he mumbled  quietly . Les pulled on his cuff and he looked down to see him gazing up with those eyes. The ones that said ‘David, we need to go’. He’d only seen them once, almost a year ago.

David had lost Kathy once, he damn well wasn’t going to do so again. “Kath?” he asked, a bit louder than before. Her head snapped to him and her eyebrows pulled together. “Wh—what’re you doing here?”

“I don’t understand? Do I know you or something?”

What? She had to know it was him. It was a joke, of course it was. Kath never was that funny but this was something else. “Kath, it’s me. Remember? I haven’t been gone that long.”

“David, I—I wanna go home,” Les whispered, “Please can we go home.”

But Kathy was there. His Kath. The girl who lived next door his whole his life, the one who used to bake cupcakes for the school bake sale. She taught him how to climb a tree and he taught her how to knit a scarf. This was his best friend and he hadn’t seen her in a year and Les wanted to leave when he’d got her back.

Yet, Les, his little brother. Tiny, puppy-looking Les, the only little brother he’d ever had and the only one he’d ever get. Sighing, his shoulders slumped.

David knew Les enough to know what he was saying in his pleas. ‘It’s not Kathy. Please, let’s go before something happens’.

And, of course, Les was right. Deep down, David sort of knew it wasn’t Kathy but… but… he wanted it to be her so  badly . Even if he never admitted it to himself, he missed her so much, more than anything.

“Sorry, I, uh, thought you were someone else.” Defeat. Grabbing Les by his shoulder, he stumbled out of Jacobi’s, trying not to look back. If only he could have missed the brief recognition in Jack’s eyes. That meant he knew and David couldn’t deal with that.

They hurried home.

~~~

Esther held him for the rest of the night. When he’d walked through the door, he must have looked drained or  really  freaked out. As a result, she had made him sit down and drink some tea. It was nice but it could hardly ease his mind.

Nothing could.

“David, sweetheart, what’s happened?” Esther asked after a while.

Could he say it? Saying it out loud would make it real because David hadn’t even processed it. Kathy wasn’t here, thank God. But that woman looked so like her. There was nothing that could explain it. Unless...

Oh. Shit.

“ I think  I met Kathy’s… something. I—I dunno Mama, I  really  don’t know.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she soothed, stroking his hair as she pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

It was no one’s fault, no one but his own. The moment he touched that wall, the moment he decided that he’d worked for the Newsies sealed his fate. This was always going to happen, of course it was. David wasn’t one for fate or destiny but that was the only conclusion.

He sighed, feeling how wet his cheeks were. “It’s not your fault.” Why did he feel so  terribly  small?

“And it’s not yours either. Les, sweetheart, can you go get a blanket, please?”

If he was being honest, David had forgotten that his brother was there. Being too wrapped up in his own mind seemed to be a great distraction to everything. At least, it seemed that way. Still, Les came back with a small quilt clutched in his hand, which he laid over David’s shoulder.

Eventually  , when Sarah came home, Esther had to separate herself from him. Yet, she was  swiftly  replaced by Sarah.

His sister was a lot rougher around the edges. There were no soothing words spoken. “What happened?”

David appreciated that. Whilst Esther was great at emotional comfort, Sarah was better at getting him to sort through it. She was always asking the right questions to urge him to the correct conclusion. “I saw—no,  I think  I saw Kathy. It wasn’t but she looked  just  like her Sar. So much.”

She patted his back  gently . “As long as you know it wasn’t her David then there shouldn’t be a problem.”

But there was. A year into this and he should’ve been over it and he wasn’t. This whole thing had skyrocketed him back into what he felt like all those months ago. At the beginning, he was so scared and alone even if people surrounded him.

“You said something, didn’t you?” Sarah asked.

Of course she knew. She always did. “I asked her what she was doing here and told her it was me.”

A nod. That was all she could do and he thought he knew why. Sarah never talked about her past, and so when she did, he committed it all to memory. But he knew that she had no family back in the 21st century. That meant she didn't know what seeing someone who looked like them felt like.

He didn’t blame her but it didn’t help the sinking feeling that settled in his stomach. It was isolating. “I thought it was  really  her Sar, I  really  ,  really  did.”

Silence settled over them. Sarah said nothing else, neither did he.

All he wanted was for the day to end and for at least a couple hours of sleep. If he couldn’t get that then he doubted tomorrow would go any better.

~~~

Why was someone knocking at his window? Could he not get something going for him today?

Apparently  not. The knocking wouldn’t go away and he didn’t want Sarah or Les waking up. They deserved a whole night’s sleep. That was the least he could do for the trouble he caused earlier.

Slipping out of bed and peeking out of the curtains, he came face to face with Jack. “Hey-a Dave.”

“Jack!” he squeaked in surprise before  quickly  whipping round to see if he’d woken anyone. “Give me a second, I’ll be out.”

Jack backed away, leaning against the railings of the fire escape. Opening the window and managing to duck out into the mild temperature night, David sighed. “Sorry Jack, I didn’t wanna wake up Les and Sarah.”

“Never thought I’d hear you not speakin’ all posh,” Jack laughed. “I like it.”

His face was set alight and he felt his face turn a rosy red. It was a miracle that it was so dark out because David was sure Jack couldn’t see. “Don’t get used to it. I do it when I’m—I’m stressed.”

Telling Jack would either be a good idea or the worst one he’d ever had. Still, David had started a whole strike with him so he should start trusting him.

“I see. It’s got somethin’ to do with Katherine, ain’t it?” Although, Jack was quick to let that thought go,  probably  upon seeing David’s face. “I came to tell ya that I went to Brooklyn.”

“And how did that go?” David asked. “They in or out?”

Jack’s face said it all. His eyebrows furrowed and he glaring at the fire escape stairs. “Out, for now. They’s think we’re gonna fold.”

“And are you?”

Gasping and looking affronted, Jack jerked back. “’Course we ain’t. You think I’m a coward?”

Did he? If he was being honest, David hadn’t thought too much about who Jack was. He didn’t care as long as he wasn’t an awful person. But, did he think Jack was a coward? No.

“’Course not. I’m not talking about you.  But, Jackie—ˮ Jack’s eyes widened in surprise— “They are kids and they’re going up against  really  powerful people.”

“Huh.” David wasn’t sure but he thought he heard Jack clear his throat. “I hadn’t, uh, thought ‘bout that. Still, we’s been through a lot, we’s can handle it.”

Somehow, David doubted that. Still, if he had faith then they could do something. They could  really  ,  really  make a difference and, if he was being honest, that was exciting. And with Jack by his side then they could take on the world. Together.  All of  them, even.

“I know we can,” David said, placing his hand on Jack’s shoulder. “We stick together and we’ll be fine. You got me? We don’t need Brooklyn.”

At that, Jack made a face. “We kinda do.”

“Nah, we’re good enough on our own. C’mon, where’s your spirit?”

Jack laughed but it was different from all the other time. It was lighter, like a small bell and sounded like he felt free, more vulnerable. That was enough to brighten his day a lot more.

They fell into silence and David’s hand swung to his side.

David was rash, he knew this. This was  probably  going to be his worst idea yet but he didn’t find himself caring. “The woman at Jacobi’s looked like someone I knew.”

“Katherine?”

So that was her name? Of course it was. That was his luck, wasn’t it? Same name and look.

“Ha.” It was humorless,  maybe  even bitter. “Her name was Katherine too. Never called her that though, she hated it. Everyone used to call her Kathy, Kat if you were lucky.”

There was a small smile on his lips and Jack managed to catch it. “Did you love her?”

Surprisingly , David didn’t know what to say. A year ago his answer would have been a swift yes but now? He wasn’t over her, no, but he didn’t love her like he once did.

He shrugged. “ I think  I did. Once.”

“What happened to her?”

“I don’t know.” His eyes were watering now. Christ, was he always this sentimental? “She’s—she’s—ˮ

“Dead?” There was recognition in Jack’s eyes as if he knew the feeling like an old friend. If David had been able to handle more than his current crushing sadness then he have  been upset  over it.

“Suppose so. Yeah, yeah she is.”

There wasn’t anything he could say because there were no words for his situation. She wasn’t dead, she  just  hadn’t been born yet. So, yes she was  technically  dead because she didn’t even exist.

Oh. He’d never thought about it like that. Kathy was dead. “Oh, oh. She’s dead Jackie, she’s dead.”

Jack pulled him into a crushing hug and he laid his forehead on his shoulder. The smell of sweat and fresh papers was overpowering.

“Hey, shush, it’s okay Dave, it’s okay.”

And David didn’t mention, as he sobbed in the arms of someone he was beginning to consider a best friend, how much he found Jack soothing . Because it was dangerous to think like that. But in that moment, he found he didn’t care that much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a bit hard for me, I was totally stumped for ages. Still, I powered through and here I am. No history for today, just backstory and David finally sorting through his emotions. Hooray!


	9. The Strike Continues

Starting the day with the lingering sense of Jack’s arms around him was a great incentive. Although, he wasn’t going to voice that. Still, David could tell Les enjoyed his rejuvenated enthusiasm. Even Esther was happy with it, she’d commented on it as he came into the main room. “You seem better, David.”

He took the plates and sat on his seat, smiling up at his mother. “I am, Mama. Good night’s sleep was all I needed.”

And Jack but he wasn’t about to say anything about that. Les was bouncing in his seat as David gave him his food. “Stop jumping, Lester. You’ll make yourself sick.”

“Sorry Mama, I just can’t wait for today. We’re on strike!”

There was a clattering and Esther span round, mouth gaping wide open. She dropped everything she did and stalked over to the table. David had to drop his head, not meeting her scorching gaze. “On strike?”

It seemed Les wasn’t adept at reading the room because he continued on. “Yeah. It was David’s idea.”

Hold on. What? His idea? No, it was Jack’s, he’d just supplied the right words for it. But the union was all him…

Looking up, David met his mother’s glare and cleared his throat. “David?”

If he thought about it, he could come up with an excuse. Would it work on his mom? Probably not and he quite enjoyed his life at the moment. Still, he shouldn’t lie. Esther wouldn’t appreciate it and the whole situation would be worse.

“It wasn’t my idea, it was Jack’s,” he mumbled, “but I guess the union was my fault.”

Her eyes narrowed on him and he felt scrutinized. “Next time, you tell me when this happens. We’re tight on money at the moment, you know this.”

Guilt wrapped around his heart and squeezed. “I’m sorry, Mama.”

Sighing, she patted his shoulder. “There is nothing to be sorry about, sweetheart. Sometimes I just need to know these things, okay?”

As she returned to the cooker, David had one crushing thought. _Well, could’ve gone worse._

“You should hurry,” she said, “and you win that strike. Understood?”

Not willing to test Esther’s patience anymore, David stood up immediately, pulling Les with him. Half way out of the door and Les turned back, waving. “Will do, Mama! Love you!”

Another sigh. “Love you both. Stay safe!”

Today was going to be a long day. He already missed his bed.

~~~

They arrived on time that day. It was miraculous considering David had been strolling to the distribution center and Les had to pull him all the way there. Although, by the time they did get there, the mood was dismal. Everyone’s faces were glum or sour. Race particularly looked like his favorite toy had been smashed and burned.

In other words, the strike wasn’t looking so good.

“Jack?” David whispered, coming up to him. The boy in question was slumped miserably against the wall, gazing out on the small crowd of Newsies.

To his credit, Jack lifted his head and nodded. “You ‘kay today, Davey?”

“Just fine. Any other boroughs joining us?” he asked.

Gesturing to the small amount of kids inhabiting the space, Jack shook his head. “They’re all waitin’ on Brooklyn.”

Of course they were. He hadn’t been a Newsie for long but they talked about it like it was the best thing since sliced bread. Which, hadn’t technically been invented yet. Wait, so what did people do with it before then?

That was a can of worms he didn’t want to open without his full mental capacity available.

“And Brooklyn’s not coming.” There was no reason to say it, he just felt like he had to cut through the silence.

Pushing up from the wall, Jack nodded. “Yeah, basically. So, Vice President, we’s got a bunch’a kids here ready for a fight.”

David didn’t mention that no one was ready. In fact, no one looked like they wanted to be there. So, yeah, a lot of enthusiasm.

“What’re we gonna do?”

Well, he wasn’t going to say anything but now he had to. They couldn’t fight a war if no one had a lack of morale. Without Brooklyn, it seemed they were already at a disadvantage and they couldn’t afford anymore missed opportunities.

A deep breath. “Talk to them?”

There was no verbal answer but Jack frowned. David took that as his cue to keep talking. He was starting to notice how good at that he was. “They need it Jackie. Look at them, they’re terrified.”

“Yeah, I know. We got nothin’ goin’ for us Davey. Nothin’. What can I tell them?”

It was then that David realized how screwed they actually were. Jack didn’t know what he was doing, he just pretended he did because he was their leader. If he was being honest, David was thankful that that wasn’t his position.

Placing a hand on Jack’s shoulder, David only wanted to help. “I’ll do it.”

“Davey?”

The question fell on deaf ears because David already had a mission. And that was to get everyone on the same page and revive their passion. _Deep breaths._

This wasn’t a thing he could mess up. If he did then they might not be on strike anymore and they’d prove Brooklyn right. They couldn’t afford that.

So, he cleared his throat and made a beeline for the biggest group of them. Crutchie lead them, he was still smiling and his crutch had a banner painted with the word ‘strike’ on it. That was what David needed, that kind of fervor.

One more deep breath and he marched forward.

~~~

David was someone else. No one else that Jack had ever met was as trusting as him. He was smart too, really intelligent. And there Jack was, sounding like he’d never been to school. But, he couldn’t think like that. No, he’d seen what happened to people like him and he was never going to prison again.

Still, when David looked back at him, a spark of hope in his eyes and a small smile on his face, it made him wish he lived in a different world. A place where he could walk over to him and tell him what he was and how pretty he was.

If he was going to win the strike, he was going to need David. And his reaction to Katherine, even the conversation they had last night, had made it abundantly clear that he was like everyone else. Normal. Jack couldn’t tell him because he would be disgusted. Maybe he’d tell people and then his secret would be out.

Snapping back to reality when David placed a hand on his shoulder, Jack grinned. “You ready to do this, Mister President?”

“’Course I am. Let’s do this.”

And he didn’t mention it, but Jack was confident with David by his side.

~~~

Surprisingly, it didn’t take long for the Newsies to agree with what he was saying. All they needed was a bit of motivation and comfort, which David was more than happy to provide. In all honesty, it was a bit therapeutic for him because eventually, he started to believe himself.

Turning to Jack, he could tell he was zoned out. Although, he seemed to zap back to the scene at hand with a touch to his shoulder. He was back to his usual grinning self within a second. Still, David could see the stress on his face, the crinkle of his forehead and the hardened look in his eyes.

Jack was terrified.

“Jackie,” David said, tightening his grip, “stay safe.”

That hardened look softened, but only by a fraction. “You too.”

And Jack walked away from him, moving towards the opening distribution center and the waiting ‘scabs’. David was lucky enough to have read enough to know what that meant because he was sure he wouldn’t have otherwise.

If David didn’t know Jack, maybe he would’ve thought that he would be diplomatic about it. Unfortunately, he knew better, which meant he had to intervene. Quickly.

So, as Jack advanced and the Newsies began to shout and holler, David had to rush in and push Jack back. It was light, barely a touch. But it was enough to stop him in his tracks. “We all have to stand together!”

Everyone stopped. If he listened closely, he would probably hear a pin drop. “The moment we don’t is the moment we lose this strike.”

Locking eyes with Jack, he used everything he could to beg with him. What he said next was for him and him alone. “Show them what we stand for.”

It was a staring match, neither one dared break the others gaze. David dared him to not listen, Jack demanded that he let him past. It was push and pull until finally, it seemed, Jack let go. He broke their eye contact, darting to look at the scabs. “Okay.”

“Look, boys. Y’know the life we live an’ I’m sure someone put you’se up to this. But this ain’t about you and us. It’s ‘bout the people who can’t look out for themselves. Pulitzer don’t care ‘bout them. He don’t care ‘bout us. He think we’re gutter rats an’ we don’t deserve no respect but he’s wrong. ‘Cause we do stand together, that’s what we’re doin’.”

Never had Jack looked so fierce and, in all honesty, gorgeous. There was a fire in him, a burning bonfire with flames licking towards the sky. It was a sight to see.

“An’ it ain’t ‘bout us. Everywhere there are little kids, boys an’ girls who should be playin’ and goin’ to school but they ain’t. They’re slavin’ away to keep them an’ their folks alive an’ they get treated like dirt for it. Bein’ poor ain’t a crime an’ we do the work without complainin’ that what we do is hard. We just want a square deal.”

Jack extended a hand to them, tilting his head. David had been on the end of that face and he hadn’t been able to say no. He hoped the same would happen to the scabs.

“Fellas, for all the kids in every sweatshop, factory and slaughterhouse, I beg’a you to throw down ya papers an’ join the strike.”

Despite his optimism before, David almost didn’t believe that they would join them. But Jack is nothing if not a miracle worker and one by one, the scabs threw down their newspapers.

There was a glimmer of hope in there as the Newsies cheered, laughing at their small victory. It didn’t last long.

Race was the one to catch everyone’s attentions, shouting about the oncoming Delanceys. David whipped around and had to grab at Les’ wrist, pulling him into the side as a fight broke out. He needed to get out there. They were in that because of him.

But his first priority would always be Les and he needed to get him out. Immediately.

“David!”

Bending down to Les’ level, his grip tightened. “No, Les. Go home. Go. Tell Mama what happened but do not come back.”

Someone yanked at his collar, pulling him back. “Go Lester!”

That was enough to get Les backing out of the center, before he turned and sprinted away. David thanked his lucky stars because he was sure that Les wouldn’t want to see this.

A punch to his jaw had him stumbling back but David was lucky enough to swing one back. He didn’t know what he’d hit but it was definitely something. “Davey!”

Jack had caught him stumbling, holding him and then firmly placing him behind. It didn’t take long before David realized exactly what was happening. Reaching out, his hand just about brushing Jack’s wrist.

Still, it wasn’t enough.

Marching forward, Jack jumped straight into it. If there wasn’t a million other fights happening, David might’ve tried to help but Race tugged on his sleeve, pulling his attention to Les—wait, Les?

Everything was going so wrong. Les had been safe and now he wasn’t. His arm looked _broken;_ he was just about holding back tears as he nursed it, cowering in fear as Henry stood in front of him.

David _sprinted._ Never had he ran as fast or as hard as he did in that moment, the rage surging through him and mixing with the adrenaline to grab at whoever was threatening his brother.

How dare they pick on a child? How _dare_ they _beat up_ a child? It was despicable and David was not going to let them get away with them.

Or, he would have, if a whistle hadn’t caught everyone off guard. Turning their heads, they watched in awe as the police stepped onto the street. Romeo approached, voice relieved like it all of the pain had seeped through it.

“Thank God, they’re slaughtering us!”

They knocked him to the floor.

They were alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, hello. I am here. Where have I been? Totally not writing SAF angst and trying to write a bit more for Legally Blonde. Also, I've been doing NaNoWriMo and my original WIP is being worked on.
> 
> This chapter kind of kicked my ass. I'm usually better at fight scenes but I didn't just want to rewrite canon because I feel like that's boring. Still, not happy but not my least favourite thing I've ever written.


	10. What's Left

Esther wasn’t happy. David wasn’t surprised but he really didn’t like upsetting his mother because it always made him feel awful. It also didn’t help that when she saw them, she burst into tears and drew them both into a hug. Her nails dug into his shoulder but David said nothing.

“Oh, Lester, your arm. Your _arm._ Come, let me get it wrapped up for you. David, get the alcohol and clean your cut. I’ll be out to wrap your ribs in a minute.”

Everything ached. His lip had split and the top of his cheek had been sliced, with both his jaw and ribs beginning to form bruises. They looked bad, like, really, really bad. Although, he was sure that some of the other Newsies had gotten it worse. Mainly Crutchie.

That moment still played out in front of him, Crutchie crying out for anyone to help him. He’d reached out, even tried to crawl away. David swore he could see Jack staring down at the scene in complete horror—frozen. Not that he could judge, and he wasn’t going to, because he was also stuck in place, staring at what was happening in fear.

How could they do that to him? Smiley, bright Crutchie. Never would David have guessed that they would target him of all people. Sure, he had no doubt about Crutchie’s ability to handle himself, he’d grown up on the streets after all. But, even then, he didn’t think they would actually kick someone down when they were already pretty low.

Although, he didn’t have time to think about that because Les came bounding out of the room, his arm in a sling. Their mother came bounding out, exasperatingly stopping Les from accidentally banging into the table. “Look what Mama did to my arm!”

“It isn’t something to be proud of Lester, you’ll have to keep that on for at least a month.”

That didn’t seem to faze Les though because he turned to Esther with a cheeky grin. “I’m gonna sell so many papes with this!”

A frown settled on her face as she crossed her arms. “You will not do anything like this again. Especially to sell more newspapers.”

Until that point, David had stayed silent, which he was thankful for. Speaking would mean he’d have to put words to his feelings and he wasn’t sure he could. It was a whole lot of shock, yes, but also horror and guilt and a bone-crushing heartbreak. Their cause was lost. None of the boys would want to go out there again and it seemed like it was all for nothing.

Unless…

Unless…

There had to be a reason why they sent cops, right? Right…?

“David, do you want me to clean your cuts?”

Oh, he had forgotten about that. He nodded.

“Les, why don’t you go get out of those clothes and put something clean on.”

Having lived with Esther for long enough, he understood what sending Les off meant. It meant that they were going to have a conversation that was not going to be pleasant to hear. For everyone involved.

Dabbing at his cuts, Esther sighed heavily. “You’ve been very quiet.”

Responding with a noncommittal noise, he shrugged. Before he explained it to his mother, he had to sort through it himself. And maybe Sarah, but mainly himself. However, it didn’t seem he was going to get the chance to do that.

“David, please. You’ve never been this silent, not since you came here,” Esther whispered, gently lifting his chin up and dabbed at his lip. “And you’re hurt. Look at me, please.” He dragged his eyes up. “There we go. Talk to me.”

David didn’t know what made him cry into his mother’s shoulder but he pulled her into a tight hug, resting his forehead on her shoulder. And he might not have grown up with her, but with her gently raking her fingers through his hair and shushing him with quiet words of comfort, never had he felt so small and child-like.

It was embarrassing, but when he pulled away, he saw no judgement in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, David, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

Heaving a breath, David launched into a rant. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Mama. This kids want me to help lead them but I can’t. I don’t know what to do. There’s nothing I _can_ do. They dragged this one kid to jail, Mama. And he—he can help himself but I remember reading about some of the prisons and they’re awful. He might be able to handle himself outside but in there… in there?”

“That wasn’t your fault, pet.”

But it was. Wasn’t he the one who had managed to talk even the most hesitant of kids into fighting? This was his burden to bear and he didn’t want to be told it wasn’t. He had to own up to it.

“Ma—ˮ

“No, David,” she shushed, “it wasn’t. You may be the leader, or something close to it, but not everything that happens is their fault, is it? We do not blame people for the faults of others, do we?”

He said nothing. There wasn’t anything to say. Esther may have had a point.

“And you’re not at fault for what happened today, you only reacted to the situation you were put in.”

David supposed that was true, he wouldn’t have been able to predict what would have happened. But, leaders should be able to think on their feet, he wasn’t able to. “Yes, Mama.”

Sighing again, she placed the cloth on the table and patted his arm. “Come on then, why don’t you help me cook today?”

It was an out for him and David so wanted to take it, but being able to say everything he had wanted to, just letting out had made him feel so much better. There was so much more he could say to his mother.

“Can I talk to you if I do?”

She smiled at him. “Of course.”

~~~

The next morning, David didn’t want to leave the house, but he still had a strike to help. And, if he remembered correctly, Jack had ran. Although, he had no confirmation that he hadn’t returned. His mother let him have some hot tea that morning, softly patting his shoulder as she walked by. Les was rocking on his chair again and seemed unfazed by the day before, he was gushing about how he could sell more newspaper, which their father raised an eyebrow to.

Sarah almost had a conniption fit.

Or, in other words, it was _almost_ a normal morning, which David greatly appreciated. Some sense of familiarity was welcome when he was about to step into a warzone.

Setting off was strange because Sarah was the one to see them to the door that day and, just as they were about to leave, she squeezed his elbow. “Good luck.”

“Thanks. Hope you survive the day.”

And out of the house they went, setting out into a whole new world: the outcome.

Arriving to the distribution center, like every time they had so far, felt different. Instead of depleted hope, there was _nothing._ Not even a lick of it existed like it had vaporized and left crystalized despair. It was all that they had left to cling to.

Wiesel laughed in their face, the Delanceys gave them smug smirks and they all waited for the crowds of Newsies, with their tails between their legs, to come and buy their papers. They lined up silently.

One after one, the money was coughed up and the newspapers handed over.

But, then, as they filled into the streets, they sold and watched as people rushed past, a couple whispering underneath their breath and glanced at them. Some people asked David up front if he was part of the strike, to which he bashfully answered with a ‘yes’. Those people gave him a little extra money.

As the morning drew to a close, the Newsies, beaten and their faith broken, they retreated to Jacobi’s. Said man was kind enough to give them some water for free and gave them a small smile. “You did well out there yesterday boys.”

Did they? Really?

It was _humiliating._

Katherine marched in, upbeat and beaming. If David wasn’t so exhausted, maybe he would’ve reacted but he just wanted to go home and hide from the world. “Why all the doom and gloom?”

Race scoffed, laying back on Albert’s lap. “Have you seen what it’s like out there, Kathy?”

 _Oh, okay,_ that hurt. David felt a jolt of pain through him, planting its roots and digging into his heart. Still, he said nothing, ignoring Les’ glance towards him. “You were there,” David shot back, words dripping with bitterness and venom.

Of course there was no reason to dislike her, but she stood for everything David had had and could never get back. She was the face of shattered hopes and dreams and he was not one to remind himself of darker times.

But seeing her look, the look of despair, he almost regretted it. Still, he lifted his chin in defiance, he wasn’t going to be mocked. By her, by fate or whatever sent him there in the first place.

“Well, I can’t see a good reason when you all made front page.”

And she held up a newspaper.

With his picture. Their picture.

They’d done it. It hadn’t all been for nothing. They had done it. This was their chance, their chance to grab victory and hold it close, never to let go until Pulitzer bowed and let them have win. “Holy shit.”

Everyone looked at him incredulously, doing a double take. He didn’t care, he’d been telling himself all day that they had lost and they hadn’t. There was hope.

Gazing at the paper, he stood up. “Holy shit, Katherine!”

Race followed in his footsteps, bounding over to Katherine and snatching it out of her hands, giggling like mad as he presented it like it was an award from school. His face radiated that same childish pride like this was the best thing he’d ever done.

“We’s famous!” Race laughed, “In the words’a vice president, _holy shit.”_

From there, the raucous spread to everyone and they were banging the tables, presenting the newspaper to anyone and everyone who would entertain them. It felt nice.

David felt like he could get used to this.

(Another part of him, the quieter, more reserved part told him that it was just like what he used to have. A group of friends who made better family than anything else he had. Except now he could have parents, siblings and…)

(This was only for the summer. Only until his dad got better.)

Snapping out of his own mind, thanks to Elmer almost knocking him over by slinging an arm over his shoulder, he realized that Jack wasn’t there. Jack probably didn’t know.

Well, it was his job to soothe Jack, wasn’t it? As vice president, when things went bad, he also had to step up and if that meant somehow working out how to convince Jack to come back even though he barely knew him then that was how it was going to have to be.

And that was fine.

David was lucky that the first place he went was Medda’s. Yes, he hardly knew Jack but he felt like he knew him enough to just _know_ where his safe space was. It was either Medda’s or his ‘penthouse’, but David doubted he would’ve gone back there because of Crutchie.

He had stood there for a bit, just watching Jack as he painted and his subsequent conversation with Medda. Jack looked tired. No, more than that, he had bags the size of a valley under his eyes and had pallid skin. There was a plethora of colorful bruises decorating his face like it was one of his canvases. How someone could look so ill after only a day was mystifying but it made his stomach twist with concern.

Breathing in and out, one last time, he grabbed the railing. “How about letting a friend know you’re still alive?”

Medda and Jack turned their heads. Right then, show time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I did change my name. My Tumblr is still the same though because my friend found it and he now follows me so I am very scared he will find this. If he does, hello, it's awful but you haven't seen any of the songs I've written :)
> 
> Real quick side note, do not wrap your ribs if you think they're broken. It can restrict your breathing and increase the risk of pneumonia according to stuff I found on the internet.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have a schedule, I'm so sorry guys. I'll try to update regularly but in really busy and I've been neglecting some of my other series.
> 
> [Come hang with me on Tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/marsbarsncornflakes)


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